


The English spy.

by mimi_of_the_earth



Category: James Bond (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/M, Fem!Mycroft is Q, Gen, Greg Lestrade is a perfect 007, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimi_of_the_earth/pseuds/mimi_of_the_earth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is one Gregory Lestrade, an agent, the best agent. And there is one Mycroft Holmes, who is a head of Q-branch and she really doesn't like flying.<br/>This is an alternate version of fem!Mycroft and her early days in service for the Queen.<br/>There will be spying spies, terrorists, computers and codes. Oh, and tea, because after all they are British.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Old English Bulldogge and Sunshine.

**Author's Note:**

> So I really like genderbend characters, it is fascinating for me how they will be similar and different from their male or female equivalents. And recently I am madly in love with mystrade. I just find relationship between Gregory Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes very intriguing and also I have a thing for fem!Mycroft. (for me she will be Mycroft, man or not). Oh and I always had crush on James Bond (when I was younger it was Pierce Brosnan and Timothy Dalton, but now I think that Daniel Craig and his whole universe is kinda hot). So I decided to mix James Bond world (something after Skyfall) with mystrade.  
> There is one important thing you should know before you read my story, my one little headcanon about Sherlock and Mycroft education. I like thinking that Sherlock didn’t study chemistry – the courses were sooo booring, so he instead studied philosophy and maths – it gave him a little more mental stimulation. And Mycroft? Mycroft didn’t study political science or something like that, he knew it all before university, he choose something more futuristic, computer science, because he is really, really good with codes and numbers.  
> So in this story we have one 40 something secret agent Gregory Lestrade who has problems with subordination, but he is absolutely the best and even after Skyfall thing he is valuable asset for MI6 and we also have new young Quartermaster who is a genius, but has problems with people and planes. Oh and Mycroft is in fact a girl even if her name is a little strange and she is the only person who can navigate Lestrade through his missions, he never listens and she is so tired.  
> This is my alternate version of what Mycroft was doing before British government thing.

“Hello sunshine, have you got something good for me today?”  
Mycroft improved ginger strand that escaped from her bun and looked at the door where one Gregory Lestrade was standing nonchalantly and she tighten her jaw.

“Reports that you should write week ago and reports from your yesterday mission that can’t wait for another week and a new gum, because you decided to drop your old one to the Pacific Ocean."

Lestrade stepped into her room like leopard who was going to hunt. He had large green – black bruise on the left side of his face and also a few stiches on his neck and he was limping. But still in his Armani suit he looked like one million dollars. A bit battered, destructive, malicious one million dollars.

Mycroft sighed deeply and reached into a drawer of her desk, then she handed Lestrade a black case.  
“Please fill reports and give them to Anthea. New gun and new communication device, take it and use it on your next mission.”

“Tomorrow.” Lestrade stuck a case under his arm and picked up reports, ostentatiously pretending to read them. His typical charming smile on his bruised mouth looked ghastly.

“Yes, tomorrow.” Mycroft confirmed, frowning. “Of course if you do not need medical care first, 007?”  
“It quite simple. I will handle it.”

And he was right. He always was all right. Mycroft mostly days wasn’t. Too much melancholy she thought. But Gregory Lestrade was like a stab. And you could always observe that he was all right, but sometimes he was just spectacularly falling apart, from time to time it was visible outside.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / /

There were two important problems. The first was eternal the second too, but there was a little much hope.  
The first problem was the fact that Mycroft just ended Oxford with the best grades you could have and also two years earlier than you should. She didn’t have personal life and she practically lived in MI6 headquarters Also she was ginger and fairy skin, and a little too chubby for her own good, and recently had problem with dry skin. (Probably because of air conditional) The worst was that Lestrade new about skin problem and there was no end of mockery and teasing.

Her minions glanced amused when Lestrade put on her desk something that was his gun not so long ago and a new miraculous ointment for her skin.

“It should help for all of your problems, Mycroft.”  
“Maybe you should go and check if there are some women that are waiting for you to fuck them?”

Mycroft didn’t look up from her computer when she threw ointment to the trash, only to pull it out, late in the evening, when she switched off surveillance cameras. She quickly discovered that despite all of his cruel jokes Lestrade always gave her good stuff that actually was helping. From Korea, Turkey or Russia, although the Russian specific could also be a car grease with menthol and camphor. After a single use she spent two days in home with really red face and her freckles looked even more awful.

Lestrade had to find all of it really funny, because all stuff was for persons under 18 years old. For such an old English Buldogge 22 was adolescence. And maybe she was the youngest ever in her position, but she was a genius after all.

The first problem was impossible to solve unless Mycroft could build the time machine and made Lestrade to meet her older self. The second problem was more…

Well, Mycroft was not a spy.

Yes, she worked for MI6, yes she loved computers and could hack almost everything from laptop that was left by random human being to the most complicated security systems on the planet Earth. She didn’t like this word but she was in fact genius. She could also broke to the hotel’s cameras system and watch how Gregory Lestrade had sex with some gorgeous tall blond. Bruises or not his charm was still irresistible.

////////////

“You just love when I make things for you.”  
“You have to turn left, because on the right there are waiting twenty terrorists for you. They have new version of AK-12.”  
“Whatever you say, sunshine. Nevertheless you are quite good in ordering. It can be a little perverse.”  
“To the left, I said… Too late.”  
“They were waiting for me, I couldn’t let them down.”

Mycroft accompanied Gregory Lestrade in nearly all of his missions, whispering to his ear directives and invectives. Sometimes she cursed, yelled and spilled tea, throwing papers everywhere. It wasn’t her bests moments, but she wasn’t ashamed of it. Against dickheaded, stubborn as a donkey, almost-too-old-and-still-not Lestrade, Mycroft never announced surrender. Rage and helplessness, yes, capitulate? Never.

New M learned pretty quickly that during online collaboration between Mycroft and Lestrade it was better not to be in Q-branch. Lestrade three times in four used his spider instinct instead of Mycroft’s data. Three in four times he returned wounded, scratched, a little more destroyed.

Every time Mycroft tried not to take it personally and each time she was not successful.

Because Mycroft was not a spy! She didn’t know how to lie when she wasn’t behind her computer screen. There was no way she could lie face to face or in front of the audience. That’s why when old M asked Mycroft to babysit Lestrade she wanted to object. 007 was chronically mischievous, dickheaded and he completely resisted all authorities. Especially those who weren’t a few thousands year old and established by centuries of traditions. Especially when they were in their early twenties and tried to made their own traditions.

Already after the first meeting in the gallery, under the Turner’s image Mycroft knew that working with Lestrade would be like riding formula 1 car. She should just refuse, dump it on someone else… But when old M asked it was an order and it meant that there is no one more qualified and suitable for the job than Mycroft. And refusal would also meant that the most maniacal, and the most effective agent would be without his navigator.  
Without tech support, supervisor and nanny. A very dangerous situation. For the country, Queen, Europe, for the whole World in general.

After Skyfall thing, it was better. But not really. In fact it was not. Old M left, old Q left. Lestrade stayed. He survived and he was probably tired of this, because he was doing everything to be destroyed. New M and new young Q could only slightly change the dangerous trajectory. He was still the best agent. Still won 90% of his too dangerous missions. But the need of protect was more visible than ever, he was too close to the edge, and when he fall the whole MI6 would pay. Old M knew that, but she died before she shared her thoughts about the ticking time bomb that was Gregory Lestrade.

And Mycroft was angry with old M, because she died. She always had high expectations. It was okay. She made Mycroft the head of Q-branch, who worked 24 hours a day and the navigator of 007. Of course there were times that someone else navigated his missions, even more disastrous… So she nearly always did this. She had to listen with tighten throat when 007 jumped from a plane, screaming when someone hit him hard with the bate and then how he crawled through sewage tunnels in Los Angeles.

“Stop talking and die finally!” Mycroft muttered unprofessionally when Lestrade landed two feet from the precipice in the desert in Algeria. He had only his gun, some water and a parachute. Somebody blew up the plane, someone hacked security system, someone didn’t want an English agent in Africa looking for smugglers. Mycroft was furious and Lestrade was laughing while he undid the straps of the parachute.

“Come on sunshine. I will not die today. I would be anticlimactic, only a mile from final destination. Besides Thursday is not a good day to die. Maybe Friday or better Saturday.”  
“You will choose a good day for your death later. Now, focus. I need you to find their main computer and attach USB I gave you.”  
“The funny thing that looked like a cat? I believe I left it in the plane.”  
“Gregory…”

Cooperation with Gregory Lestrade was always a game, from the very beginning to the end. She had to be alert and foreseeing and in the same time fast and determined to keep up with all of 007 actions. She also had to overtake some of it, because he cheated also with his co-workers, even with those who talked to him through the ear piece and opened all of the doors, electronic locks and safes.

“Listen, now I am going back to the building, and I need you to organize a helicopter on the roof.”  
“The helicopter is on the terrace. May I ask you why do you want to go back to building which is going to explode in forty five seconds?”  
“You may not. Helicopter on the roof, now.”

Mycroft felt that she was red on the face. No luck. It was mission that was observed by M and his people. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her. Curious and mocking. She promised herself that next time she would equip 007 in water gun and clean his bank accounts, transferring money to the association of amateur ballet in London. It was necessary to isolate during 007 missions. It was so embarrassing and her minions heard all of his stupid comments. She had to give it to someone else and made one more tea, the old one was too cold. 

“Q, I am on the roof. Mission accomplished. Where is my helicopter? Q? Are you there?”

Several members of her department looked at her, Anthea smiled and M sighed.

Mycroft was professional. And only because of that she didn’t tell Lestrade to go fuck himself.

///////

Mycroft did deep research of all classified and not Lestrades’ acts. She knew with whom he collaborated, who knew him by his real name and who by aliases, who lived near his luxury, rarely used apartment on the outskirts of Kensington in London. Lestrade was actually an ideal agent, the information was mix that it was really hard to create one image.

“If you are curious about my past, you could just ask me.” Lestrade kindly pointed out, with a bang of another destroyed weapon that was put on her desk. “I have a quite long story, not everything can be hacked.”  
“I have at least ten evidences that show how untrue is your statement.” Mycroft replied while giving him small suitcase with six miniature explosives, a new gun and two pendrives. One with Mickey Mouse and the second with Donald Duck.  
“The next mission is for sixteen hours, you have plane for in three hours. Try not to damage everything, pendrives are the most important.”

The first thing they taught her when they proposed her work in MI6 was – agent always lied. Agent was never what you thought he or she was. Agent lied even when he or she did not work. It was in their blood.  
Gregory Lestrade lied for many years. After the death of old M and the fiasco in Skyfall it got worse. Unpredictable agent became agent almost unable to cooperation. Yet he still did impossible things, flirted with Anthea, M secretary and he was just the best. Also he was still a nightmare for Mycroft Holmes.

The message was clear, 007 wanted to work alone and wanted to die alone.

“It is unfortunate that I have a duty to speak to him by a transmitter, whether he wants or not.” Mycroft announced grimly over her lunch and Anthea looked at her with mocking pity of the person who worked in the field and did not understand the dilemma of people who never did it, because they dealt with… uh theory.  
“My poor quartermaster, exposed to the attack of malicious agents.”  
“I am indeed very poor.” Mycroft announced, using her upper class accent. “So you can make it all better by giving me your candy bar.”  
“But I need sugar too in my dull life!” Anthea protested with a smile. “But seriously, if you want I can talk with Lestrade.”  
“Oh come on, I don’t break, because one old English Buldogge has a suicide tendencies.”

A conversations with Anthea was always pleasant. She was probably the closest thing that Mycroft could call a friend. Never before in her life there were someone like that.

Half an hour ago Lestrade came to Beijing and fell in a deep but luckily dry well in the backyard of the Chinese mobster. It was supposed to be an easy mission, but Chinese guy had beautiful wife, Su – Lin and Lestrade couldn’t resist. So the bodyguard whose were watched the wife were responsible for the well and the twisted ankle, and ribs injury. The British Embassy wasn’t happy. The Chinese government wasn’t happy. But Lestrade was alive and in plane to home, probably flirting with some stewardess.

This mission was like many others. He listened Mycroft advises and chose to ignore them, or maybe, likely he didn’t even bother to listen. In her department there were rumors, that he didn’t like technology. But Mycroft knew better. Gregory simply was a jerk, an asshole who liked humiliate her.

“Oh, maybe he just want to be your friend?” Anthea bit her sandwich with chicken and looked at Mycroft.  
“Or maybe he just wants to explode with the building and be buried alive under the debris.” Mycroft said grimly and sipped her orange juice. It was disgusting and didn’t taste like oranges at all.

////////

Since Anteha became M secretary and Mycroft started being Lestrade navigator they established agreement. Manly based on lunches and coffee, drunk occasionally after nine pm, when it was sure that they weren’t coming back to their houses. She could easily tell her secrets of her collaboration with Lestrade. Anthea also worked with Lestrade in the field some time ago so Mycroft had an impression that she understood.

“It is good that I can talk to you about this jerk.”  
“But he was in time for a helicopter when he crawled up from the well.” Anthea said with a shrug. “Generally he is on time when you organize his transport. Well he changes the locations, but it is normal, during the missions sometimes things just happens and you are the only one who he actually informs what he is doing.”  
“So it is a privilege? Even when he humiliates me in front of my department?”

Anthea didn’t offer an answer. Instead she gave Mycroft a candy bar with four cereals and something that should be a chocolate.

///////

Days were better or worse. Sometimes Lestrades’ teasing was just one sided flirt, marked by sports competition and boredom. Mycroft gave him a new gun and miniature time bombs that explodes only in aquatic environment. Lestrade gave her cut in half gun (How?) and a box of sweet, dried seaweed from Beijing, because you need energy to shine sunshine. Mycroft gave Lestrade for his mission in Central Asia, a prototype of sonar and mapping device. He brought back a plastic something from said device and a box of wonderful white tea.

They exchanged they usual malice about age. Next time it was another ointment for her dry skin from Paris. In nice art deco flacon. So he get a new gun and a tablet. Small things, small gestures, relatively peaceful cooperation.

There were however worse days, when Lestrade only wound her with his comments and gave her bloodstained reports. Or even worse when she heard through intercom blurred, wobbly, drunken, fuck off, sunshine.  
The protocols didn’t include the bad days. They were professional. Lestrade was professional too on the missions after them not.

“What should I do? Ask him if he wants to talk?” She asked Anthea. “I am made for computers not for talking. I don’t know how to talk and I don’t want to know!”

Anthea nodded sympathetically, but didn’t say a word. Gregory Lestrade was the most analyzed person in MI6 and the most mysterious. All secretaries had a crush on him, all of her female staff had dreamy eyes when thought of him. Everyone watched 007, gossiped, admired or hated him, but no one talked with him. Apart from occasional flirtation or some professional debriefing, no one really talked with him.

Only Mycroft.

She knew that when he was drinking he sometimes forgot to turn off the transmitter. Probably on purpose, because sometimes he spoke to it. Short, clipped sentences, without much sense Sometimes he was in bar, sometimes luxury brothel, rarely on the street. Mycroft turned off all recording equipment. She still didn’t know how to react. She still didn’t know how on Earth Gregory Lestrade was the best MI6 agent and he didn’t want to anyone just help him. He chose to be broken, battered man. Psychologists, psychiatrists, MI6 had all of them. But Lestrade didn’t want help. He preferred to drink and talk to the transmitter. He knew she could listen. And she after fifteen minutes turned it off, because she didn’t know what to do.


	2. The cat from Berlin.

The fun fact, when it came to respect Mycroft for working with Lestrade, Anthea was right. Neither her workers nor other agents saw her incompetent. They just watched her with compassion, when she yelled at 007 for his destroyed equipment. And he just stood there, hands in pockets of his far too expensive suit and predatory smile of the python. But no one mocked quartermaster. Perhaps, because there was no one else, who could navigate 007 through his crazy missions.

The situation wasn’t good. Mycroft tried to see herself as a someone who connected Lestrede and MI6. No one willingly wanted to replace her.

Mycroft knew that was illusion. In MI6 there was no people that couldn’t be replaced. In a place of old M, the new M arrived, old Q, now new Q. 007 resurrected, but 005 who was shot in Bagdad stayed dead. Giant wheel of MI6 went on, but still it was nice to feel that the part of it was only for her. Even if it was a part based on shaky cooperation with Lestrade.

“I am doing all of the worst job here.” Mycroft complained, she left the laboratory something around midnight. Only small group of night shift technicians stayed. They were sleepy and bored.

Anthea was waiting for her and before she decided to come back and maybe do something more in the labs, Anthea made her go outside.

“You need to rest, you will kill yourself and there will be no one who will be able to guard Gregory.”  
“You now, he is a big boy, he will be all right.” She muttered sleepily.  
“Yes, and more he is the only real Batman you will ever know.” Anthea pushed the button and elevator started moving with quiet hiss. Mycroft knew the hiss, after all she designed this elevator.

///////////////////

The next Gregory Lestrade mission was in Cairo and for some reason he needed four bombs. The data showed that blowing up the French Embassy in Egypt, a small, square building, with arches and fountain in the patio required only two. Mycroft argued fiercely with Lestrade, she didn’t wanted to give him those bombs, only because he liked explosions. He only laughed.

When M called, demanding an immediate meeting in his office, she went and didn’t end the quarrel. When she came back the two bombs were missing.

“Q, please find replacement for yourself, someone else will end the mission with Lestrade.”  
“M, we usually do not pass missions to another navigator during its lasting.”  
“Yes, but now we have something to prove. “ M said, deep in his thoughts. “This is why I need you to find someone who will guide him through Cairo to airport.”

Mycroft frowned. She knew that it wouldn’t do any good.  
“Are you firing me?”

M looked at her. When old M looked you knew that she was a good politick, tactic and negotiator. New M looked like good businessman with family and free weekends always on the good side. Mycroft sometimes forgot that he was also a spy. Perhaps this made him dangerous.

“No, I am not firing you, Q. I only want to give Lestrade a lesson and show him my point of view.”  
“During the mission? Agent can die…” She began, M only smiled.  
“This agent can die, but more likely after the mission. Now go, be quiet during this one and I will find money for one of your projects.”

Mycroft cleared her throat loudly, still suspicious, but she didn’t object. Because she was a workaholic. The projects she played between work and three hours sleep that came only after pills, were sometimes fun, sometimes silly. But always led to useful discoveries. And she liked having government money for them.

So she left M office and without regret she gave Lestrade mission to one of her minions. Rick was a talented scientist and very calm person he probably could play with 007. Sentiment, sentiment, but the money will be useful and if M wanted to prove something to Lestrade, it was not her problem.

///////

Everything was all right till the moment when her computer showed that Lestrade entered the building. She straighten up, took a sip of the tea, improved slightly rumpled shirt. Generally she prepared herself for an attack. In the end it was not like they were married or something, she had so many other more important things to do then babysit Lestrade. 

He entered her department five minutes later, so angry that all of her technicians run from his steps, hiding behind computers screens. Seven minutes later he knocked to the glass door of her office. 007 was wearing blood stained, torn at the sleeve shirt, his pants were dirty and he generally looked like he was swimming in some mud that had also blades.

“What are you doing?” He asked, trying supressed cough and trying to look intimidating.  
Mycroft raised her eyebrows in mock amazement and folded her hands as she practiced in bathroom an hour ago.  
“I am drawing a plan of Dalek.”  
For a moment Lestrade gaze was flat like people on the edge of concussion who did not like/ couldn’t/ didn’t want to know the nuances of pop culture. But Mycroft knew better. Lestrade simply didn’t catch the joke. After all looking at his wounds it wasn’t that strange.

007 was staring at her with those brown eyes, trying to cut her in half.

“So, you are drawing a plan of imaginary robot from stupid BBC series, instead of escorting me from exploding Cairo?”

So Lestrade knew something about pop culture, interesting.

“No, I am drawing a plan of a new lift. I had more important things and M gave your mission to competent person. How can I help you, Lestrade?  
“You weren’t there!” He yelled, apparently losing patience. “And your competent someone was so slow that he didn’t keep up with anything! With four snipers, for example! To you want to start a war? Because of him Cairo exploded!”

“Whole?” She asked unmoving, Lestrade glared at her furiously, then perhaps he maybe see something in her face, because he relaxed a little, smiled grimly and leaned with both hands on the desk. For a moment 007 just looked at Mycroft. He was bleeding statue and she couldn’t look away. A few drops of blood, sticky and thickening fell on classified acts and then world began to move in its own bizarre motion.

“No, not whole.” Lestrade replied finally and then left her office.

She leaned her head on her hands and laughed aloud. Her laugh sounded unnatural in the minimalist, simple interior of her office.

//////////////////////

For some time everything was back to normal, you could even say that it was a little better. Lestrade tried to pay attention to the data she whispered to him by the transmitter. And Mycroft tried to avoid destruction of the cities where missions were placed. One Cairo was enough. They did pretty well. In fact nearly perfect. They finally came to agreement, although 007 still destroyed every equipment she gave him, and she yelled at him for that.

Whatever M wanted to prove it was working.

But nothing good could last forever.

The mission was not an easy one, but Lestrade like always stepped into it with confident smile and loaded gun. On the outskirts on Berlin was discovered human trafficking, specifically, a very underage prostitutes from Russia, whose from Germany went to the whole western Europe. Someone had to tell them that Lestrade was coming, because they packed they things and girls and disappeared. For 007 was waiting a bunch of professional assassins. The gang left them one girl, so tiny and thin that almost transparent to play with.

When Mycroft watched photos later, she had to restrain herself from retching. 

Assassins were waiting for a fight, but they weren’t ready for MI6 agent, Mycroft cut off the electricity, wifi and phones. Lestrade went through three floors shooting all the time. He should attack from the hiding, but he didn’t listen to anyone. He wanted them to be afraid, to know that they would die. He received two gunshots in the thigh and the shoulder, but he killed everyone. Also the girl who was used as the shield by one of the assassins. 

Last shots sounded and there was silence buzzing in ears. Lestrade was breathing loudly and doing something with equipment. She could hear some clicking and boots on the wooden floor.

“Take the photos.” She gave him command, she heard him muttered something and then was the noise of moving something limp and heavy. Body, Mycroft realized.

Lestrade took photos and the body of the girl. When he ignited engine, something squeaked pitifully, small stubborn voice that Mycroft couldn’t recognize.

“What the…?”

Lestrade didn’t answer, he hang up. She had desire to threw the cup in the glass door of her office. She stopped herself. Messed up missions needed messed up people who took dead bodies of underage prostitutes to their cars, shot assassins without mercy and hesitations, and never ever ask for help. All missions were messed up and all agents and their navigators too.

After Berlin Lestrade disappeared for two days. Neither German agency nor U.S. allies, who appeared in Berlin had idea where he could be. Before he returned he killed two CIA agents who collaborated with traffickers. That was why Americans were so quickly in Berlin. He shoot them in their sleep in hotel.

When he finally returned to London he gave Mycroft laptop of one of CIA agents and small basket from where she could hear small squeaking noises.

“What is it?”  
“Cat.” Lestrade opened the basket, Mycroft moved away quickly. “I killed people, there was no order to kill cat, so I took it with me. The kitten for the sunshine.”  
“007…”  
“If you want you can give it to someone else. I couldn’t leave it there alone so it just happened.”

Lestrade looked as she opened the basket one more time and saw a dishevelled, dramatically tiny kitten with black-grey stripes. It was like her palm, no more than two weeks. So many problems. And she wasn’t the animal lover. They were messy, could bite you and you had to take care of them and she absolutely didn’t have time for that. But suddenly she discovered that German kitten was so different from others and she delicately touched its fur. She looked at the cat, probably hungry, definitely hungry. What kittens ate? Cold milk or heated milk? She didn’t see herself preparing milk for small mammal. But it had to eat something.

Lestrade looked at this scene with strange expressions on his face. Mycroft straighten up and cleared her throat uncomfortably. 

“It can stay, but do not bring me more animals, I don’t have time and place to keep them.”

Lestrade nodded curtly, then turned and left her office. Without his usual elegance and ease. Interesting, interesting.

After all events in Berlin, he disappeared for a month leaving behind only traces of bank transfers. M did nothing to bring back the fugitive. Kitten was named Heisenberg after Werner Heisenberg and became quickly the mascot of the whole department. Good, because someone had to heated his milk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Werner Heisenberg is my favourite physicist.
> 
> He was German theoretical physicist and one of the key creators of quantum mechanics.
> 
> And he also claimed that he knew how to build the atomic bomb before Manhattan project or during it but for Nazi Germany. He never did it because he didn't want Hitler to have such a power.
> 
> Other scientist claimed that it was impossible.
> 
> So he was mysterious, inteligent person, good enough for Mycroft to name her cat after him.


	3. The code

In the beginning of everything there was the code. And the code was with God and God was the code. It all happened by it and without it there was nothing.

Mycroft was one hundred percent sure.

In general, in Mycroft’s life everything usually started with the code. Beautiful, simple, graceful language of humans and machines, created for the Queen, but also for relaxation and to have a little fun. 

Mycroft loved codes. All of them. From those monumental and important to the silly ones that existed to open the fridge. They were like symphony, soothing her mind and allowed to forget. Who needed sleep when you could write a nice code?

So it began from the code. Like almost everything in Mycroft’s life, if only she knew what would happen next, she would probably write poems.

////////

When Lestrade came back, M gave him a reprimand, Anthea with cold smile invited him for a coffee and Mycroft handed him a paper bag with scented herbs. And then immediately came back to write her report.

“Do you have a new gun for me?” He didn’t open the bag, just stared at her with those dam brown eyes.  
She didn’t graced him with response, too deep in the report about missing agent who only left financial traces and uh… cultural. Bills from bar in San Francisco, where 007 lived only on martini and peanuts. A visit in an exclusive brothel in Mexico City, the whole two weeks. A few tickets from cruise around the Finnish fjords, a few days in the most expensive hotels in Central Europe, oh and tickets from New York’s museums. He was really good in managing his free time.

007 stood there besides her desk and it was clear that he wouldn’t go unless she would explain the bag. She sipped cold tea.

“Apparently you should give something to the person who give you a pet. For his wellbeing.”

Lestrade nodded slowly, not taking his eyes from her. And then he smiled so Elly, the technician, who was passing by blushed and fled with panic., shuffling her flat shoes. She didn’t have a chance. Lestrade didn’t pay attention to the women who wore less than 4 inch heels. Once Mycroft and Anthea made statistic of the height of the shoes of the Lestrades’ women. All were very high. Apparently he liked his women with deformed feet.

Mycroft frowned and rubbed the edge of her nose.

“This is yerba mate.” She explained, Lestrade opened the bag, still staring at her. “003 gave it to me, she just return from Paraguay. It reduces stress.”  
“And purifies blood.” Lestrade said. His eyes shone and his sunny kissed face was covert by a few days stubble. Mycroft started thinking of touching this cheek or maybe even kiss it. Normal thoughts when you didn’t sleep for two days. The train of thoughts was interrupted by tiny meows.

Lying on her knees, Heisenberg stretched in his towel and looked around. He was a little bigger, but still weak and almost all the time hungry.

She petted him delicately and he calmed down. Lestrade came closer and looked at Heisenberg.

“You take it to work with you?”  
“His name is Heisenberg, and where am I going to hold him?” She huffed and wrapped Heisenberg in his towel and getting up from her chair. “He can’t be left alone in my house, especially, because I am rarely there. But you know that and yet it didn’t prevent you from giving me another job of taking care of a cat.”

Lestrade didn’t say anything. She expected some reaction so she just stood and watched him. Something flashed in his eyes but immediately disappeared. He was amused. 

“You need to do something after the work.”

Mycroft snorted.

“My after work activates include tracking your accounts and bills from brothels and museums.” She said venomously and turned away, stroking slowly her cat. Elly came and took the towel with the kitten from her.  
Lestrade instead of his usual tease about her sexual frustration started laughing.

For some reasons Mycroft couldn’t stop looking at him.

///////

Throughout February Heisenberg grew up slowly but constantly and he started investigating Q-branch, because Mycroft spent nearly whole February in work.

“I always thought that chef of the Q-branch would have frogs, turtles, generally something you don’t need to feed too often…”

“Q has a cat. Surprise of the year.”

Gossips, gossips. But when Mycroft suggested that agents could buy their weapons and equipment on the flea market in Pakistan, everything stopped.

Generally her minions were in love with Heisenberg even if they had to be more careful with wires and other things. It was good, because there was always a candidate to heat milk for a little beast. 

This week was really difficult, she didn’t remember when she slept or ate. Finally Anthea dragged her for late lunch. So now, she was sitting at the table and playing with her chicken salad.  
“Mycroft, you have to eat, it is unhealthy.”  
“But I eat! I even sleep sometimes…”  
Q shrugged and twirled a fork in a salad with chicken .  
“Yeah, I can see how you eat, like you are on diet.” Mycroft wanted to say something, but Anthea continued. “Oh stop it, you don’t need diet, you look really good, or you looked because now you started losing weight and it is not that well.”

She didn’t replied on that, because she got text that 007 went on another mission in Moscow this time. Her presence was requested. She said goodbye and went to her department.

And after that, there were other missions. One after another. Even more reckless and impossible. M probably decided to show his power, it ended with Mycroft trying to clone herself to keep up with 007, equipped him properly and navigated his hectic missions.

Lestrade went fast, not looking around. He flirted, fucked and killed and there was no sign that Berlin massacre did something to him. Apparently he didn’t spend too much time on remorse.

“007 you are chased by thirteen members of yakuza. Black Toyotas, blue motorcycles.”  
“Stop them with some red lights, or do something to their internet. I…uh, I am busy…”

Lestrade was on the roof of the limousine witch contained yakuza boss from eastern Tokyo. Although he was, wasn’t good phrase. He was dangling from the roof, holding metal frame of the windscreen and tried not to fall.  
So she made all of the lights red, of course it didn’t stop yakuza, but the rest of the cars yes, so they crashed badly.

Limousine stopped with a loud noise. Lestrade did his job as always. 

“There is nothing better than short trip to Tokyo.” He rasped to the intercom.  
“007 do not flaunt, just take the pendrive before they realize that they were beaten by a man in swim trunks and t shirt.”  
“Not my fault that they decided to leave hotel when I was swimming.”

From Tokyo Lestrade brought bikini for Mycroft. Ugly, pink bikini.

“Will he ever get tired of this?” Mycroft was holding Heisenberg and also tried to add sugar to her tea. “I thought that Her Majesty’s agents have more important things to do then bring quartermasters bikini.”  
“Don’t you even think that I don’t see that you add sugar to your tea, because you are not gonna eat your sandwich..” Anthea said coldly and moved her plate with a double sandwich with cheese, chicken and arugula to Mycroft.  
“I add sugar to my tea, because is stopped working, who knows, maybe I will have to start drinking coffee?”  
“Welcome to the world of addicted to caffeine. It is not so bad, we have cookies.”

////

She was getting more and more tired. But it was Lestrade fault oh and spring was coming. In the end how long you can live on food from cafeteria and bitter tea? She still refused coffee, even if Anthea tempted her with some really aromatic espresso.

“You are grey on you face sunshine, I have to buy you something for it.”  
Lestrade burst into her office with a freshness of a man who just was in sauna and took long shower.  
“I heard that algae extract is good, especially for people who work in stressful environment” She answered without thinking. . “You have plane to Stambul in two hours.”  
“I am serious, Mycroft, you should take better care of yourself.” Lestrade whispered, soft baritone voice. Leaned forward and gently touching her face. “You have traces of keys from the keyboard on your cheek.”  
“I dozed off between your mission in Brazil and your visit to sauna with the last girlfriend of prince Harry.” She politely stepped away from Lestrade’s hand and gave him a plane ticket. “Not only you are getting older, 007.”  
Lestrade smiled and said nothing. Mycroft pretended to be busy writing some new program and she didn’t hear when he came out.

That night, she didn’t sleep. She couldn’t relax after Lestrade was nearly killed, threw from the rock Pedra de Gavea straight to the hissing, biting, stabbing jungle. Fortunately her small code, as usual rescued everything. She wrote a few more lines, and finally decided that it was enough. After all it was 7am and she had to go to work.

///////

Grey, wet, wintry London became a rain drenched, muddy, spring London. She had a feeling that days and nights became one. Work, tube, home, work, tube, home. 

“Even computer need time to rest.” Old Q told her one time. “People too.”

But she was not resting, ignoring the advice. She just switched off one computer to take another. Because she was better than old Q. And her state became more visible, because Lestrade bring her some vitamins from Switzerland and Anthea made sure that she ate. Heisenberg was two months old and reckless. London drown in mud and spring was late, worse than London tube.

The only element that brought a little bit colour in her life was the code. Written for relaxation. She hid it safely, but to be honest no one was looking for it.

So at the beginning there was the code.

Mycroft knew since she got her first computer that word was made from codes. Not light, words or god. Code. Code had to be the first thing that existed.

So she didn’t write it to damage something. No. It was just in early stage of the development, nothing unusual and it confused everyone, because who cared of some minor code written after hours by person who didn’t have personal life.

And it was just plain, tiny code. Nothing great, nothing promising to be programming language. And this simplicity was very important for Mycroft. Since old M died she wrote it in her spare time, improved, erased mistakes, checked. It was not a job, rather a pleasure, fun and relax.

She was not a spy and she didn’t predict that the code would cause so many problems.

Like all interesting codes, this was also created in strange minutes of free time. Mycroft was either in her office dozing off her on her uncomfortable couch or trying to pretend that she could sleep without her laptop.  
Lestrade didn’t recognize the concept of a free time.

“Mycroft.”  
“Why are you calling me in the two in the morning? I don’t work now.” She stretched on the bed with laptop on her chest. Heisenberg was sleeping on the pillow beside her. She rubbed her temple, waiting for Lestrade. Nothing.  
“What is it Lestrade? Something’s wrong?”

There was always the possibility that MI6 was suddenly attacked by terrorists , or the Flying Spaghetti Monster .

Lestrade sighed loudly into the phone.  
“It’s two in the morning, Saturday, Mycroft, I am calling to tell you that there is a life outside the internet.”  
“Hmm, Yeah. You now, send me an email about it.”  
Lestrade laughed, a low purring voice, for some reason the hair on her neck stood. Damn.  
“Go to sleep, sunshine. Be workaholic only during your working hours.”  
“Yes, dad, goodnight.”  
“Sunshine.”  
“What old buldogge?”  
“Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight.”

Mycroft hang up and sat smiling. She felt that this would be a good night for the code.

Lestrade couldn’t know that Mycroft was in the process of creating her usual, not important code. For fun, relaxation. Normally she wrote useful things. A professional could be known by his/her free time. And if you do your work during your free time it didn’t make you crazy at all. 

About five in the morning Mycroft went to sleep, with a dead laptop on her stomach and Heisenberg licking her hair.

She dreamed about her code, numbers and letters flew easily in the air. There were like melody, vibrating in her body. The code was elegant and included important people old Q and old M, Anthea and Lestrade. But also her tube line, ugly pink bikini, yakuza and Tokyo. Everything that was in her life was a part of the code.

Until the moment when the alarm clock rang seven.

Mycroft woke up and run to charge her laptop. In her head was still memory of her dream. She couldn’t leave.  
It was a little chilly in oversized t shirt but she had to end her code.

////////

It was a really long day, even for MI6 standards. She sat at the computer for forty-eight hours with small breaks for toilet and tea. She destroyed three bombs, found terrorist who planned attack on Barcelona’s airport, caught some hackers from Korea and save Lestrade from secret and illegal base in Turkey where someone produce illegal weapons. 004 was stuck in the jungle in Argentina, Anthea discovered that she had allergy on peanuts and Lestrade accidently initiated a war between drug gangs in Brazil.

Mycroft was exhausted. She didn’t even try to take tube, she came to her home by taxi. 

A small apartment was as usual quiet, filled with hardware and shelves with books, pendrives, hard drives and other stuff.

She should find something bigger, maybe in Kensington like Lestrade or Belgravia… Something with more rooms and cleaner staff. But deep inside she liked her tiny place, it was the first thing she bought on her own. Sentiment. 

With a sigh she let down the basket with Heisenberg. Something hurt in her back. She remembered something about strengthen her abdominal muscles and back. Somehow two or three months ago her doctor told her to do this.

But then were four Lestrade’s missions, including Cairo and Beijing. And recommendation slipped from her head.  
She stretched her stiff shoulders and put the keys on a small table, took of her jacket and then noticed that someone was here. Open door to the computer room, carpet was not like it should be and a smell of cigarettes – she never smoked in her apartment. 

Damn.

While trying to pretend that she didn’t realize anything, she reached for her mobile. She sent a text message, that run the page in web which informed MI6 that quartermaster was in danger.

She was prepared. It would happen sooner or later. Every quartermaster was attacked, matter of time. So they would kidnap her and probably torture, it was always like that. Information, codes, acts everything in the head of current quartermaster.

Mycroft was not a spy. There were many reasons that she sat behind computer and not run with loaded gun like Lestrade.

She tightened her grip on the mobile phone, her heart bit nervously and her throat unpleasantly dry. Slowly, trying to act natural she started to retreat towards the exit. She knew the procedure. She knew how to behave, how to send an alarm message, how much time waited for response. But also she realize if someone could broke her security, this someone was probably a little bit hard to beat using only a pepper spray. 

There were three attackers. Masked in black, military costumes. They got her before she put hand on the doorknob. First there was unexpected blow to the temple, the other two grabbed her immobilized and gaged. She tried to get away. For her efforts she received a strong blow in the ribs. Something cracked.

Before she started getting orientation back, she could smell something awful on cotton that was in front of her nose. She chocked and whole world started spinning too fast and then everything went black for some time. She only registered that one of them kicked Heisenberg. 

She tried to struggle. This time it was fist connected with her face, knees buckled. She hung in her captors arms, like a rag doll. She could feel blood from her nose and blackness in her head.

“Okay, we are taking her, too much noise, she will write the code somewhere else.”

But what code she thought sleepily, then one more blow in the stomach and no more thoughts.


	4. Possible impossible

Mycroft was dreaming about a caravan and dry, warm desert. Everywhere was sand and each step of a camel was giving her a growing headache.

She wanted to ask the camel to be more careful, and the beast looked at her, blue eyes, something was wrong…. It rocked Mycroft until she woke up.

“Mhhhhm…”

She immediately regretted that she woke up from her dessert dream. She was in a tiny room without windows. Alone. With loosely tied wrists and ankles and with headache that was trying to crush her skull. She looked around. Nothing. She was sat on the ordinary chair, in front of her was ordinary table, no explosives, handcuffs or alligators in a pool.

She tested her bonds, something cracked in sore shoulder. There was no way she would got up from the chair, not with constant spinning in her head. She closed her eyes, focused on breathing. Relax, it was fine. They didn’t cut any of her fingers, yet.

On the table in front of Mycroft stood laptop .

And then, suddenly she understood the horror of the whole situation. Assaulted, kidnapped, alarm text, Heisenberg and the code. Damn it. When was it? Yesterday or today? Or maybe even a few days ago?

She didn’t know the time and it made her feel pathetically nervous wave of nausea. Mycroft moaned and rested her head on the table. What was the day, today? What time was it?

Was she in England?

They didn’t allow her to wait. Also they had to monitor the room, because when she came to herself they arrived to introduce themselves. Three masked, dressed in black, military guys. Two big and tall one smaller in a black shirt. “That’s nice. Two with muscles, one with brain.” Mycroft tried to remember everything MI6 taught her about situations like that. They would intimidate her, showed her that she was helpless and then they would do everything to squeeze every information she had and also those she didn’t have.

Maybe it wasn’t even necessary, the force, the demonstration of muscles, in this unknown room in unknown country. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t able to. Her head hurt too much.

They asked about the code. She didn’t know what code and for a lack of cooperation they hit her few times in head, face, back… They used sticks, rarely hands. It probably meant something, but Mycroft couldn’t collect her thoughts. They said that they had known that she always had backup copies somewhere in web and they wanted one of these copies. They freed her hands, so she could use the laptop. Her first impulse was to run away, to the door. She even made some embarrassing jump, but it was ridiculously slow, her legs didn’t listen to her brain.  
They knew. They saw. They didn’t want to hit her anymore so they just sat her again in front of the laptop and told her to show them copies. Greasy, sweaty palms of two with muscles rested on her shoulders and neck. The one in shirt only stood and watched.

Mycroft told them that leaving copies would be stupid. She received slap in the face. They didn’t want to damage her too much (much too late), didn’t want to knock her out (a little too late). They wanted her to write the rest of the code, because the scraps they had seemed to be important.

“We have time.” They said. “You will be here until you finish the code.”

Nothing about killing, there was no need.

Laptop with internet and they own network which was quite good protected. Network signal was weak, but it was obvious that there had to be more computers somewhere. 

The laptop had something to search and pieces of her code. Mycroft recognized it as funny, ordinary code, written in her spare time and laughed aloud. Hysterically until she felt some pain in her stomach. They hit her in her kidneys. She just wanted to jump out of her skin. She cried and curled up and sudden panic grabbed her by her throat. Until now it was like a dream, well nightmare, but still unreal, but pain quickly washed illusion, leaving an ugly reality in which MI6 quartermaster, the youngest one would die, because she wrote a code for relaxation, small, silly code and they thought it was so important.

“This is.. just… toy…”  
“Write it!”

She tried to compose herself, but there was still problem with hyperventilation and trembling so that she was unable to use the keyboard. They gave her some water, warm, probably from tap. She didn’t drink it, she straighten up, cleared her throat. The shirt man looked pleased. Mycroft stopped paying attention to them. She had to play with them until MI6 would find her. It was important. She had to improvise and survive. Damn how agents did that?

She wrote a branch of the code and more she wrote the more she liked her new idea.

Shirt man was good, but not genus. Before he noticed the trick, she managed to write two branches of her code, the first took all data from their computers and the second sent all of them to MI6 computers. The whole network of kidnapers flew to London.

And they took the laptop away.

“You little whore!”

She remembered the first few minutes of beating, then everything was blurred and moved away from her, like some boring movie during which you fall asleep. Legs, back, shoulders. Not head. They kept her and beat, no escape. She was weak and confused and they had time and energy. They wanted her tiny, funny code and she didn’t need to have feet or thighs for it.

She wasn’t made for this. She couldn’t take so much pain, like agents. She didn’t try to stop crying. On training they told her that crying and shouting brought relief. She didn’t feel it.

They beat hard, but she didn’t lose consciousness, they were extremely good. She had training, she knew what to do, how to answer, what she should relax and stretch, but training paled in comparison to pain she felt now.  
It could last minutes or maybe hours. After all she agreed to write the code. They gave her water mint-chocolate candy bar and a new laptop. This time without network, because she burned it.

Without internet, without help in unknown place, sore kidneys, god, she was sure she would need transplantation. Mycroft tried not to think about it, she tried to concentrate on the code. The letters and numbers jumped freely before her eyes, everything blurred, head throbbing. The code… she never looked at it that way. The code was… fantastic, could change the fate of the world. Sure, it would take some time, but then it could be everywhere in the world. No one would break it, no one. 

And she was so blind! Overworked and blind. She didn’t see this powerful weapon. And now they would kill her, because of her stupidity or at least she would lose kidney. Her breath dangerously hitched. “Stop. Think about something else. Think about Heisenberg, hope he will be all right. MI6 should send someone, hope you didn’t destroy their servers when you sent kidnappers data. Oh and who is now navigating Lestrade? Oh he would be useful right now. With his arms, and smile and beautiful, new shiny ambulance.”

She didn’t know how much time passed. Day or night? Mycroft swayed on the chair and wrote slowly on the keyboard, frowning and trying to focus. She had to look pathetic, because they gave her something terribly sweet, which probably was connected with coffee.

The muscles men weren’t needed anymore. She was captured and broken. They shouldn’t do this so quickly, she bitterly thought. But then her back started hurting even more.

“You wrote such a beautiful piece of a code. Very useful and brilliant.” Man in shirt said, peering over her shoulder. “But you are inadequate. I was expecting someone better.”

She poorly coughed and deleted the half of the code. Man hit her few times in her ribs. She lost her breath for a moment. Then the other two came back and she heard the world started shooting. Smoke everywhere and explosions. Those small bombs she gave 007 for Moscow, she could heard their sound.

Chaos began, running, yelling. Someone was barking orders in strange language. They cut the rope that her legs were tied. 

Someone hit her temple, she could feel her teeth rattled. She didn’t even moan, just get limp, eyes wide staring on her feet when they dragged her across the room. The reality around her curled up and rolled, slowly fading away. 

///////

Lestrade was too stylish to arrive with an ambulance, so he had only double seat, dusty, awful jeep. So in fact they were in the desert.

She woke up with a groan and with amazement watched the passing scenery of small plants, sand and rocks. She was covered by itchy, thick blanket, a hot air on her forehead. In addition Lestrade rode as fast as devil himself was chasing him.

“You are late.” She told him coughing. She felt sore ribs and sore everything. Tears rolled involuntary.  
He didn’t answered her, pressing gas harder. Jeep howled. Strong, big, warm hand landed on her forehead.   
“Go back to sleep sunshine. We will be safe in a minute.”

Mycroft had desire to protest, wanted to tell him that she didn’t use a plane. No way, thank you very much for flying. But the hand slipped to her eyes and suddenly she felt so tried, sore and sleepy, no energy for anything. Everything hurting, even the ends of her hair. It was probably a good time to lose consciousness one more time.

//////

Bruised kidneys, blood in urine, cracked three ribs, a collarbone, bruised back, concussion and strained trapezius muscle.

Very nice doctor Jenkins, announced his diagnosis, calmly, confronting with serious eyes. Lestrade, Anthea, M and Heisenberg in the basket were in the hospital. Mycroft was lying in her clear linen hospital bed. New nice pajamas. She was watching fondly the lamps above her.

Lamps, they were talking to her in Morse code of the universe. Very positive, joyful message, that life was beautiful, everything would be fine, there are still good people, no matter how bad you felt, how lonely and frustrated and you would find someone with whom you would have satisfying, regular sex, even if your calves were ugly. Lamps were right, she couldn’t disagree with them. They flickering was about useful and important work with sense, even if someone kidnap you, took to the desert, wanted destroy your kidneys for random code. Lights blinked slowly and Mycroft kept smiling to them.

“She is packed up with morphine.” Anthea said sympathetically and Lestrade voice broke in.  
“She is lucky, she survived. It wasn’t in contract Mallory. She had to be properly trained.”  
“She was trained, Lestrade, she went through all possible trainings for such an occasion. But she is not an agent and never will be. But I can’t lock her in the basement forever to prevent her from being kidnapped!”  
“Or from writing another genius code” Lestrade muttered softly.   
“Oh no, it’s over. I know this look Gregory. If you want to argue go outside. Mycroft needs rest.” Anthea snapped at him.  
“She didn’t write the code for them, but she still…”  
“Get out, I said. Poor thing, she is babbling something about hidden sense of lamps and you upset her!”  
Mycroft stared dreamy over Lestrade, Anthea, M and Doctor Jenkins. Why so hostile? Lamps were speaking about peace.  
“The kidney require observations and concussion too. So I suggest staying in hospital.” Jenking gentle voice waved over.   
“How long?” Lestrade snapped.

This was the moment when Mycroft felt a big pain in her head and back. She didn’t remember what she said, but the room suddenly felt silent. And the nurse was injecting something and then there were only lamps.

/////////////

When she thought about it, all kidnapping was like a bad dream. Really, desert, lunatic terrorists, Lestrade in Jeep and hot air. Funny, ridiculous.

Really, especially if you were Mycroft Holmes, whose the longest journey was a trip to Paris by Eurostar.

“I remember when old Q was kidnapped.” Anthea said with sentiment, forcing Mycroft to eat more of her dinner.  
She spent two weeks in the hospital. There were visitors from her department, also Tanner and M and of course Anthea. No family, they were informed that she was in India for business.

Lestrade didn’t come.

She was listening to Anthea story about old Q, turning in her hands a plush dog, sweet and trashy with ugly pink ribbon around its neck. No one wanted to admit to this gift. But she knew and Lestrade would go on the next mission with water gun, this time she would really do this to him.

“You didn’t see what was here when you disappeared. Your magical side cried for help. M was doing everything with procedures and then Lestrade came back from his mission and nearly threw M through the window and then he go after you.”

That was unusual.

Anthea only smiled. “They were really good prepared to take you from England. We really have to think about same more training for you in terms of kidnapping.”

“Nooo, Anthea, I am not made for…”

”I’d love to help in your training Mycroft.”

Mycroft and Anthea turned to the door where Lestrade was standing, looking at quartermaster with hard penetrating gaze like predator too lazy to attack. He also looked like he didn’t sleep for a week, crumpled in his usual suit, unshaven. Only his eyes were still nice and brown.

Mycroft hands clenched on the toy as she felt nausea and urge to go to the toilet. Something was still wrong with her kidneys.

Lestrade came closer not taking his eyes from her.

“You have to throw the code, Mycroft, destroy it, get rid of it. Don’t play, don’t write it, forget.”

Need to go to the toilet became a little more urgent, because she had small netbook, which was helping with boredom in the hospital.

Lestrade of course guessed.

“There is not you netbook anymore.” He kindly informed her, smiling. “Before you protest. It is an order from M. Destroy the code, we will say it was only a rumour, it is impossible to write.”

“But it is possible.”

“Only you know it and it should stay that way. Do you want to be a prisoner of your own work? They will chase you and chase and finally they will catch, do you want it?”

“You aren’t stopping chasing me and I am okay…” Suddenly all puzzles fit, revelling a very nice picture.  
“You knew about the code, 007.”  
It was not a question, but Lestrade answered without hesitation, without a twitch of his eyelid.  
“Yes.”  
“You didn’t want me to write it. So all the gifts…”

“It was my job. To take your attention from the code to give you something else.” Lestrade slowed seeing god knew what on Mycroft’s face.” I had to befriend you, M supposed that your little relaxation code could be dangerous as you can see, he was right. We still don’t know how they have fragments of your code. I was watching you and distracting you. You can be extremely stubborn when you focus on something.”

She could feel that head was spinning a little. Hands tried to strangle the animal and finally it landed on the floor. She felt betrayed and cheated and even more annoyed. Because she worked in MI6. Spies were everywhere. What she was expecting? That suddenly field agent and her became friends? That he would bring her gifts and forgot about work?

Mycroft nodded slowly, she was thinking, “I understand, sure, yes, I am on the drugs now, leave me for few days and everything will be fine, just like before.”

Anthea looked at Lestrade like she wanted to strangle him and scratch his eyes. Mycroft stopped her with one look.

“It’s all right, though I like… liked that code. I know it’s better.” She said flatly. “It was nice mission 007, thank you for being so efficient and rescued me. It was a lovely ride in Jeep, first in my life. But now I want to get some sleep.”

This time Lestrade nodded and marched to the door. Anthea threw the empty box of chocolates towards him. It didn’t touch him. Lestrade glanced and closed the door.

“Asshole.” Anthea hissed.  
Mycroft smiled and buried herself deeper under the blanket.  
“He was just doing his job.”  
“And you were kidnapped and nearly killed.”

Anthea went after Lestrade. Mycroft was alone with vibrant headache.

Sure. Everything began with the code. But if she knew that this code would make so much troubles, she wouldn’t write it at all.

///////////////////

After two weeks she was released from the hospital. Her apartment had new security and well stocked fridge thanked to Anthea.

Anteha took care of everything. Heisenberg saw her and meowed lauder.

“Come on, now. Did you miss me?”

Of course instead of being happy he bit her finger and run to the kitchen. Well, cats…  
She looked around her apartment, nothing changed. She took off her jacket and threw it on the couch then sat down in the chair, rubbing her face with hands. Nothing happened, everything ended well.

/////////

There was lot of work. MI6 servers, 003 mission in Africa, some meetings with officials, making sure that her code was just a rumour. Illusions and magic tricks, normal day. Oh and M told her about conference. Some posh important tech conference that she was required. In Tokyo.

Fly. Plane.

“But you can’t go by train.” Anthea joked, patting Mycroft’s shoulder, when she handed her an invitation.  
“I can swim.” Mycroft said angrily, but Anthea only laughed.  
“And you will be late for everything. Sorry dear, there is only one way, but you will get a few days off. You will see Tokyo and you know nice hotel with pools, saunas and everything.”  
“But I have make some idiotic lecture that will show that I am unable to do something like my code.” She complained.

“Maybe you will just admit that you are afraid of kidnapping.”

Mycroft jumped on her chair, instinctively reaching for pepper spray. Lestrade was smiling like a cat and with one smooth movement he was beside her desk.

“I have a mission in Tokyo.” He announced casually, looking at the gas with disgust. “Sunshine, you really need a training. Whoever allow you to pass the tests was pretty stupid.”

“Oh, and who allow you to pass your tests before Skyfall?”

For a long moment they looked at each other with pursed lips., then sighed loudly. Synchronously, as if they agreed.

“Old M.”  
“So the old witch had a plan, as always.” His smile sharpened.  
“Do you think she knew I will write…” She stopped immediately, Lestrade wasn’t a friend, wasn’t even a colleague.  
“Surly.” Lestrade noticed small, hesitate smile. “You are after all a genius sunshine. Sooner or later it would happen, that you write some computer gibberish which can start the third world war. Matter of time.”

“So I am dangerous?”  
“So you are valuable and you can do many valuable things.” Lestrade bent over and looked closely at her. “And I will be here to watch you in case your genius became dangerous for you and England.”

He smiled and she thought that his cologne was indeed nice. She sighed opened a drawer and put there unnecessary pepper spray.

Once again brown eyes watched her with amusement.

“Great.” Lestrade said with smile, and his voice became a bit lower. “I am glad you are not taking this personally, let’s stay professional. Especially since I am going with you to Tokyo. Certainly there will be someone who will want to kidnap you. So we should cooperate.”

Mycroft felt headache one more time. And suddenly she wanted her reality of work, tea, cat, more work, Athea back. She didn’t wanted handsome agents with nice cologne who were constantly treating her like a mission.  
“I understood that we are flying in the same plane and we are in the same hotel?” She asked with resignation when Lestrade nodded and improved few strands of her hair.

“Yes, sunshine, I think it is a beginning of a beautiful friendship.”


	5. Lethal pendrive and smooth jazz

Maybe she wasn’t the strongest and you could beat her with a few punches, but she was not stupid. She knew that Lestrade was flying with her to Tokyo not only to defend her in case of terrorists. Maybe, but not only. She would think yes, before the desert case. Now, not. Now Lestrade was professional, boring conference wasn’t in his style.

It was a little embarrassing conclusion, because that meant that she didn’t see him as a professional before. Not really. Sure, he was very capable, efficient agent, crazy enough to be the best, she knew statistics, she made them. But still, he showed her his unprofessional side. Somewhere between cosmetics late phone calls and expensive tea, she created his unprofessional image.

Very dangerous picture. Lestrade played, as every agent, in appropriate moment revealed his human face and she didn’t notice. Stupid.

Something was wrong. With conference, too expensive hotel and tourist attractions sponsored by MI6. She searched files and network. No hints, clues,. Nothing. There was no information of what 007 would be doing next week.

M knew and didn’t tell, he told her something about planes and skills and then that he was busy so she should go.

Such disappearances in MI6; databases were rare. Lestrade was many times in Tokyo and who knew maybe Mycroft would be just another cover.

“I don’t think so.” Anthea said wrinkling her nose and reading some emails on her blackberry. “Maybe he just wants to have some vacations without paperwork.”  
“But there are not documentations from his infiltration of my person too.” She said grimly while packing her shirts. “And that mission was very real.”  
“Anthea didn’t have an answer for that. She handed Mycroft more clothes.  
“Will you do some tea, when I will be packing myself into plane crush?”  
“Do not push, I can order some Chinese but only if you eat with me.”

Mycroft agreed. When Anthea called their favourite place, Mycroft packed whole bag of different sedatives and other pills that may be needed.

Maybe she shouldn’t do that, but she didn’t remember being at the airport without chemicals in her bloodstream. 

Migraine started between chicken and some noodles. She was ready, two painkillers, tea with lemon and sleep.

“Are you sure, you are okay?” Anthea asked, when she took Heisenberg in the basket. “You look pale.”  
“I always look pale, I live in England and I am ginger.” Mycroft said smoothly and smiled reassuringly. “Take care of Heiseberg and don’t give him tuna, even if he begs you. Unless you want to have this tuna in strange form in whole space of your apartment.

Now Mycroft was alone. Family like always was informed that she was somewhere else for business. Not Tokyo, too easy, Canada this time. Increasing pain behind her eyes was making her nauseous. Eight hours in metal box. It was so easy to hack its system and destroy it, miles above the ground. And you wouldn’t run away.  
She went to her medicine cabinet and took two Xanax pills, swallowing them dry.

“Damn…”

When she packed all of her things and regained relative stability (psychological, because physical wasn’t very good after Xanax), she decided it was time to sleep. Migraine was still there but a little more bearable. She took a long hot shower, changed into pajamas and slipped under the duvet, with a sigh she stretched her legs. Good medicine was important if you wanted to avoid panic attack.

Maybe Xanax wasn’t good enough?

She jumped over when her phone played jazz melody. With trembling hands she picked up, trying to sound composed, she could feel cramps. It could only be Lestrade.

“Why are you calling me after midnight?”  
“Why so hostile, sunshine. I just wanted to know how is your phobia and advice you to not take too many pills.”  
Mycroft sank down on the pillow and closed her eyes.  
“Without pills I will not be able to go to terminal, Lestrade, you know that you read my files.”  
Lestrade laughed, low, murmuring sound that made her feel warmness.  
“Yes, yes, I read. You hacked the entire system at Heathrow using only your mobile. You paralyzed the whole airport, only because you were in the bathroom without windows and you couldn’t open the door. Tomorrow I really want to avoid publicity, although I admit it was funny.”

Mycroft suddenly felt her headache worsens. She could feel tremble in her hands, arms and abdomen. Even thinking about airport fiasco caused light panic attack.

“Is there anything I can do for you beside entertaining you with my phobia? If not I am hanging up.”  
“Easy, tiger. I just want to make sure that tomorrow you will be conscious and not flying on pills of happiness.”  
“There will be not trouble, if it is what you mean.” She trying said it in cool way.   
Silence. Silence. Lestrade sighed.  
“Just don’t drug yourself more than necessary.”  
“Goodnight, 007.”

///////

She was shaking from the moment she woke up from her restless sleep. Her heart was beating like a hammer and she was sweating, dryness in her mouth almost unbearable. She tried to eat porridge, but she couldn’t. Mycroft dragged herself to bathroom and stared at the mirror. Pale green face, dark circles under her eyes. She couldn’t cope with planes. Not today… not ever.

The closer the flight was, the worse she felt. In taxi she was shivering like in fever, trying to recited periodic table in her mind. From left to right, from top to the bottom, then she tried to create same code. The taxi driver looked at her with fear.

She hated being so helpless, all those embarrassing psychosomatic symptoms. Tremor, hyperventilation, heart rate… Everything was spinning.

Lestrade was waiting in front of the airport. Fresh, nice, smiling with elegant briefcase and two cups of tea.  
“Hello sunshine, I have some Earl Grey.” He gave her a cup. “You look awful in this rainy morning.”

Mycroft looked at him and smelled her tea, just the smell of paper-plastic cup made her nauseous. She dropped it.

He took her suitcase and they went towards the entrance.

“Come on, let’s go.”

She didn’t have time to breath, Lestrade was shoving her through the crowded entrance.

Somehow she survived all gift shops and people, children, dogs, lost tickets and other unimportant airport stuff.  
Lestrade walked beside her with annoying calm and confidence, carrying both of their luggage. Somehow he decided that shaking, sweating quartermaster was unable to carry her own suitcase.

It was near.

“Lestrade…”

But Lestrade didn’t give her time. He smiled, put his hand on her lower back and pushed her toward the gate number twenty eight. Wait, was this really their gate?

The stewardess took their tickets, checked their false passports and with smile invited to the plane.

Spinning in her head told her that she would go crazy and did something terrible. Nothing happened. Lestrade smoothly sat her in a seat away from window and took the seat next to her. He smelled nice, something spicy. When he bent down and looked at her, brown eyes sparked.

“You really are afraid of flying.”  
She looked at him and suddenly couldn’t form a word.  
“Oh, and you are high as a kite.” His cheerful voice and gentle face somehow hid rage. “Great. Just stay with me. I know you don’t like planes, but trust me. Nothing bad will happen to you, promise.”

What? Why she should stay with him? She wanted to ask, but it was pretty obvious. Great, powerful 007 would be mocking her for a long time. Gregory Lestrade who was used to hang from the wing of plane, piloting falling helicopter and dangling from a skyscraper, using only one hand to hold on, didn’t understand. Fear of flying, claustrophobia, panic attacks. Under their feet was nothing except clouds and you had to sit here and wait for catastrophe.

Plane’s engines roared and it started moving. The landscape outside the windows began to run away. They went higher and higher, her heart beat faster and faster.

“Close your eyes and bend down.”

For a very long moment she stared at him like at madman. For a few minutes they would fall, it was so easy to hack the plane. And no one would survive.

Lestrade ordered wine, sure, calm voice. “No nothing happened, my friend just has a small breakdown. Nothing big. Yes, blanket would be good, thank you.” He spoke with stewardess.

Mycroft tried to straighten up, but he was holding her tightly.

“Sit still.” Lestrade hissed, voice different then he used with stewardess. “What did you take? And don’t even lie that you didn’t mix pills.”  
“Diazepam, Lorazepam, Xanax and Ativan.” She muttered into material of her own pants. “Let me go, I am gonna throw up.”  
“Go on.” He commanded mockingly and with lighter more purring voice he said. “Thank you Melissa for a blanket and wine. Besides beautiful legs you also have beautiful name.”

Lestrade forced her to tell him when exactly she took all the pills. He had to have experience with self-medication, because he scowled and ordered more wine. She was watching him it was hard to breath.

“What… is… happening?”  
“Nothing, Mycroft, why anything should happen?” He took a sip of wine. “Quite good, pity that you swallowed so many pills that you can’t taste it.”  
“Do not play… with me.” Mycroft gasped doing deep breath and wondering why the ceiling was waving. “Something will happen…I know it…”  
Lestrade looked up from his wine and leaned forward, put blanket under her chin. And then he kissed her cheek.  
“Nothing bad will happen. Trust me.”  
“Nothing will happen, he says… Trust me… he says… I will come for you with jeep about two hours too late…”

She mutterer sleepily. Lestrade was immune to malice of someone who was trembling under the blanket.  
Lestrade was a bastard, but in the end had a heart and even some compassion, because he made her drink two cup of tea and even gave her Xanax and Lorazepam. He said something about it was not healthy to mix drugs, but it was a long flight and there was still time to Amsterdam so she could sleep. Mycroft didn’t have strength to ask about Amsterdam. She swallowed pills, drank tea and fall asleep.

The machine purred beneath her like a big cat .

/////

“Mycroft, wake up, you have to do something for me.”

Her eyes opened slowly. Where was she? Sleepy, sluggish, completely confused she stared dreamily at leaning over her Lestrade. Again he wanted something. 007 always wanted something from her.

“What?” She asked, her tongue was like wool. “I sleep…”

Everything that happened next was like a really bad movie. Lestrade asked her to disarm a bomb in the cockpit and Mycroft agreed and allowed to be leaded to the bomb, weightless, flying and cheerful.

One of the pilots was dead, bullet in the brain, other one was piloting the machine and there was the bomb. Nice design, some modern chemicals, and so many colourful wires.

Mycroft had a desire to laugh, but she couldn’t because she would choke on her own tongue. Lestrade for some reason looked worried.

“Mycroft, don’t laugh, focus. They activated bomb when we were over Amsterdam, which means that you have to deal with it now. I will take care of the terrorists.”  
“All right… I will disarm…for you, whatever you want…” Mycroft mumbled and Lestrade slapped her hard, then stood up and went to take care of the terrorists.

She didn’t remember the next fifteen minutes. She sat and stared at the bomb, circling her head and couldn’t catch breath and dead pilot’s brain was somehow on her. Somewhere someone was shooting, yelling, tearful voices. Lestrade disappeared, he was nowhere to find…and he was important, important.

Mycroft remembered what he wanted. She couldn’t stretch her fingers. Slowly bomb told her in familiar numbers what she should do. In three minutes everything was going to explode. She tried to concentrate, it shouldn’t be difficult. In fact it was easy, if she wasn’t so high on drugs and in the plane.

She took her mobile phone and she connected it to the bomb’s computer, she always had cable to connect her phone with computer. Silly habit. More shots and suddenly all bloodied Lestrade was in cabin.

“I suggest, hurry up!.”

Lestrade struggled with someone, but she didn’t care. Time suddenly slowed down around her. She wrote code on her phone and hacked the bomb. It was more difficult then she suspected. More advanced. And for what did they have all those gates at the airport if you could bring bomb like that to the plane?

“Breath, Mycroft!” Lestrade shouted, breaking the nose of man who tried to get into the cockpit. “Breath!”  
Not letting her mobile she slumped on the dirty carpet. She curled up on her side and breathed harshly. She kept tapping slowly on the phone keyboard. She felt like she just had a heart attack.

Few seconds later her code burned something and bomb was broken. She rolled over on her back. For a bright glorious moment she felt alive.

///////

“You look like a dead fish, sunshine. Eat something.”  
“I ate in different time zone.” Mycroft snapped, gritting her teeth. Migraine was pounding in her skull like badly played solo on drums. “Besides, I am not sure if I can eat safety anything you give me, you traitor.”  
“Do not frown, Mycroft. It had to be done in the worst conditions for you. You were safe with me all the time.”  
“Sure, I am the safest in exploding planes with heart attack and the brain of a pilot all over me.”  
Lestrade sat on the edge on the bad next to lying Mycroft.  
“Mycroft, I had to see you in real action, it is a part of your training.”  
“Couldn’t you at least say something before. A little warning? Yeas, so I wouldn’t be high as a kite on the plane with terrorists and bomb. Bomb Lestrade. Oh and lunatic agent who just wanted to TRAIN me? I… Ow…Ouch.”  
“Don’t move, I will bring you new nice cold wet towel.”  
“Asshole.”  
" Hysteric. "

The entire first day of the meeting Mycroft spent in her elegant apartment in the most expensive hotel in Tokyo. She was lying in bed with wet towel on her forehead and eyes trying not to blow. She also tried calmly and quietly die in her sleep, because migraine wouldn’t stop. Wet towel nothing changed.

The anti-terrorist brigade which waited for them at the airport didn’t help either. They had ambulance filled with doctors speaking quickly in Japanese who gave her something for sleep. She only remembered hands, warm and big. Lestrades’?

She woke up in the hotel. Lestrade told her that she disarmed bomb on the plane and that her new training just began. 

“I will tell Anthea, you will not know the day nor the hour.”  
“Nothing new, besides, Anthea loves me.”  
“She shot you.”  
“But didn’t kill, No, no, no do not get up so quickly, because you will end with your face on the carpet.”

She tried to get up three times and run to toilet to throw up and she failed three times, because something was wrong with her legs. Lestrade escorted her to bathroom three times. He was wearing the hotel bathrobe, smelling of coffee and toasts. Mycroft should be ashamed of her trips to toilet, ugly calves and pitiful sounds, but migraine took all of her dignity.

She promised herself that as soon as she regained mobility she would make Lestrade regret. There would not be a bank, hotel, restaurant and brothel where Lestrade would be safe…

“You will kill me with your lethal pendrive.” He whispered amused, soft, fluffy voice right next to her ear. “Sleep now and try not to drool on the pillow.”  
“Mhm.”  
“Exactly.”

////////

“You knew about everything.”

Mycroft didn’t raise her eyes from her laptop. The second day was boring. She was on few lectures, nothing new. Dull. Only tea was good.

No one would believe in impossible possible code. Everyone laughed at this concept as something imagine by someone nearly delusional. Mycroft with polite smile nodded, sipped her tea and understood that were no concurrence for her.

In the afternoon when instead lectures started social gatherings, Lestrade and Mycroft were sitting in restaurant. Opposite to each other, in silence, platters between them.

Lestrade measured her with calculation and amazement.

“Of course I knew Mycroft. I just didn’t know you would screw up and take so many pills.”  
“You know, I do not fly! I do not even go near airport without something to calm down!”  
“And you know that I don’t attend stupid conferences without real actual need.” Lestrade’s voice was perfectly flat and emotionless and Mycroft had a desire to throw a cup of tea at him.

But she liked tea too much.

“Don’t be so angry, Mycroft, we knew about terrorists and we decided to do two things in one time. Nothing happened.” Lestrade smiled broadly, elegant, smooth and so cheerful. “If you throw this cup at me, you will make an idiot from yourself on the eyes of all those old pricks which attend conference.”

She put the cup down and poured more tea. Inhale, exhale. She knew it would be that way. Now, she knew he lied, like always.

She had to be careful, analysed and drew conclusions.

“So, you and M decided to train me.” Her tone light, normal conversation. “I don’t need this. I work from the distance.”  
“You specialization is your weakness.” Lestrade ate some salmon sushi and continued. “Act only from distance can be dangerous. Former M let you do it, because she knew we won’t allow it.”

Mycroft snorted playing with her squid.

“I understand, that now I am going to be with you on your missions and I will be specialist from terrorists?...How stylish.”  
“Listen…” Lestrade put down his chopsticks, used a napkin and then stood up and sat beside Mycroft. Something in his posture changed, something shifted and suddenly Mycroft noticed that she was not sitting with a friend, but with 007. Not with a friend who gave her a cat, drove through the desert in jeep and joked on damaged equipment.

Mycroft was sitting next to the killer and for some reason she couldn’t breathe.

Lestrade bent down and tried the squid, still looking at Mycroft.

“Maybe you miss it, but in our profession we have to be able to fly when we need. You can’t be off mentally when you are in danger. You are a quartermaster, you should finally understood what it means.”  
“That I have won with my fears, because my employer said so? That was not in the contract.”  
“I don’t have in contract that I have to die and then rise from the dead, but here I am.”

Lestrade looked in her eyes and suddenly he was a friend again although the killer was still there, somewhere under the skin, in the corner of his eyes, the way he sat to be able to quickly use the weapon. It was annoying and confounding. Mycroft drank more tea, sighed and looked into his eyes one more time.

“We are crazy, that we do what we do.”  
“Yes, we are.”

Mycroft smiled without humour.

“Now you will drag me through this training and I will not be able to sit behind my computer.”  
“You know me sunshine, if you do not throw up that means you do not try hard enough.” Lestrade moved closer and wrapped his arm around her back and laughed honesty. Something fluttered in her breast.  
“Why are you so nervous, I told you everything will be fine.”

They ended dinner. Close to each other almost breathing the same air, sipping warm sake and leading nice, silly conversation about everything and nothing.

It was very nice evening, no headaches, no terrorists, no shootings. They ate dessert and drank two bottles of sake. When they got back to their apartment she understood how deep in troubles she was.


	6. The minister, the agent, the secretary and her lover

“Come on, run, sunshine. All specialists from your department have to pass tests, right? Don’t let an old man like me run faster than you.”

Mycroft couldn’t answer to the taunts and teasing, because she was busy wheezing and desperately catching her breath. She was running. For God’s sake she was running. On one of those scary machines to run in the room. She wore trainers, shorts and two times too big t-shirt that belonged to one crazy agent, who had a desire to train her.

“I… am…dying…”  
“Not yet, we have few kilometres to run.”  
“You..have….no…right.”  
“I have all possible rights, M will let you do your work when you are properly trained.”

Lestrade run next to Mycroft, his breath was normal and he was smiling. The bastard was smiling! Mycroft felt awful, sweaty, sticky, ugh. She couldn’t even plan her revenge, because she couldn’t do anything during this torture that Lestrade called training. 

And it was only Tuesday.

“Explain… me again why I… need this when I am working… with computers in headquarter.”  
“Because sometimes you work outside. Because headquarter can be attacked. In both cases it would be good if you could just run, run and run. Not everything can be done with computer sitting in pajamas while drinking tea.”

Mycroft glared at him, wincing ugly.

“I have no breath to prove you how wrong you are…”  
“But you have it enough to talk about nonsense, so it is not so bad. Such a genius and such bad in energy logistics.”   
“Lestrade…”  
“Shhh, just few kilometres more.”

//////////

After the conference they spent another week in Tokyo and at the beginning at said week Mycroft planned to kill Lestrade like thousand times. For example killed him, get rid of the body and convinced MI6 that it was just a tragic accident.

But all of this was actually Mycroft’s fault. How could she not check that their apartment had a private gym? How did he persuade her to try those machines? She really had to have some mental problems that she agreed to this training. From the beginning she believed that passive aggression would do the trick, that she would be standing there and he would stop. And then Lestrade stood in front of her, folded his arms and said run. And she run, because she was weak, unable to object computer scientist with ugly calves and clearly couldn’t refuse to the former commander of British Navy. 

She was pathetically weak and she should train her assertive side, because she really should know how to refuse Lestrade.

“Do not frown. Run. “  
“I.. will… destroy… you.. M will.. not… let you…..”

Lestrade looked at her with pity.  
Unfortunately M confirmed Lestrad’s words, he agreed with 007 completely. 

“Be rational about it quartermaster. It is for your own good. Do what Lestrade will tell you.  
M voice was distant and icy, Mycroft shivered.  
“I have no idea why old M let you work with your results. You have to be ready for everything.”  
“I am ready.” She said with cool politeness. “I spend majority of my time at work and my free time too. I have better results in navigating missions then anyone. “

M snorted.

“Terrorists, attack and things like that miss Holmes.”  
Oh. Well, yes, Mycroft rubbed her nose, squeezing her eyes. How she didn’t see that. That’s why she worked with computers not with people.  
“That kind of things.”  
“Yes.”  
“So that means that I am on the mission and I don’t know that.”

M laughed for the first time since the beginning of this bizarre conversation and he sounded somehow tired.

“Yes. I can’t tell you anything more, you have to take care of this subject on your own.

///////////////////////////////////

So she took care of the subject in her own way, using laptop and made a good spy program which specialized in breaking government’s programs. Lestrade disappeared in the morning, she didn’t know where, but it gave her time to sit properly to the computer and avoided mocking comments about her physical conditions. 

Everything was hurting. Her back, thighs, arms and she really wanted to avoid Lestrade laughing at her, because she had to sit in a very special way to avoid the pain.

So when Lestrade on Wednesday morning left without explanation, she took hot shower wrapped herself in dressing gown and sat down with laptop.

Code came easily. She was for codes, cables and wires, not running. And she really wanted to know what was going on and she would find it even if she had to blow up British Parliament.

She knew that there would be nothing in MI6 database, Lestrade cleaned up everything nicely. So she checked databases from Japan, China and Taiwan she checked also Lestrade’s phone and M’s phone too. But there was nothing which was alarming and frustrating. Suddenly something made sense.

So she returned to MI6 database and she logged in as Mallory.

She had all passwords of all users of MI6 database. No one knew that. 

M account was full of emails from around the world, dramatically boring. Two massages were in other file. One of them had was one sentence report about Quantum.

So M wanted to hide that Quantum was still active and that Lestrade didn’t destroy all of them.

The second message was about the secretary of a minister who was currently in Japan and about her lover who was a potential danger. And that dangerous lover was going to be in Tokyo too.  
It seemed that M wanted Mycroft to connect the dots and prevented the world from private vendetta of Lestrade. 

It was so weird. That was why she preferred computers not humans. Computers were logical, predictable.

“What happened, you look like you saw a ghost.” Lestrade stood in the doorway in shirt and suit. “Something is going on.”  
“No, nothing.” Mycroft lied smoothly, without looking and focusing on tiny code that gave her so many information and a light headache. “I am writing an article, they wanted to publish something after the conference.”

Lestrade looked around the room then he covered the windows with curtains and sat beside Mycroft.

“So what is happening, you look strange.”  
“Why can’t you just leave me alone, 007?”

Mycroft was aware that Lestrade wasn’t stupid. Probably tomorrow he would try to break to her computer and check if she knew his plan, whatever the plan was. So she left some worms and few traps in her computer. 

But the question was, why Lestrade did not ask her for help. Why he didn’t trust her? She always had a way out for him, from every dangerous mission. Mycroft with some astonishment discovered that if Lestrade would ask her for help, he would receive it. Because her job was important and agents she navigated were important too. Sometimes she even forget that they were secret agents, but then she listened to all screams and bullets wounds.

It would be very unprofessional to help Lestrade with his self-proclaimed mission, but Mycroft would do this without hesitation. But Lestrade didn’t ask. He went alone using Mycroft and stupid conference, it was sad, pathetic and above all it was humiliating.

So now she knew everything. Computers were really useful. She stood up and walked past Lestrade who was still sitting. She didn’t even blink, maybe after proper training she would be a good agent.

Lestrade looked at her with those brown eyes, watchful and worry.

“Are you all right?”  
“Yes, of course. Now leave me alone, I need hot shower before my back dies and then I have few things to do and I don’t want you to bother me.”

Before Lestrade could reacted she closed bathroom door.

That night Lestrade didn’t hack into her laptop only because she was using it to the very morning hours.

“What are you writing, sunshine?”  
“An article.”  
“You are lying.”  
“Yes.”

Somewhere around four in the morning Mycroft realized that she was angry at Lestrade, around five she realized that he was not asleep, just lying on the couch with martini. It upset her even more.

/////////////////

Lestrade probably knew that she would find out that he was looking for information about Quantum in M files. He couldn’t prohibit her using electronics, but he could make her really, really tired. And he did that. This tactic had good and bad sides. Bad were that Mycroft at the end of a day had desire to go to bed and never ever get up. Good were a little more complicated and hidden.

Mycroft would never have guessed that she was able to hide something like that from Lestrade. And the training helped, because she was too tired to tell him, that she knew he knew about Quantum. It could be charmingly ironic, but she was too sore to appreciate it.

The universe didn’t like Mycroft this week and it showed her that especially on Friday. She was tired, stressed and soon they would be in plane again.

“Focus, Mycroft, you will kill yourself. Come on you have to eat something.”

Mycroft was trying to control her trembling legs and sat down on the floor. Lestrade gave her a bottle of water. She drank everything. Dusk was slowly falling through the windows. It would be beautiful, if not Lestrade, her training, his secrets. 

She crushed the bottle and threw it into the bin, she missed it.

“Lestrade do you realize you are hurting the person who saves you during your missions, for example helping you out from burning building?”  
“And also directs me during car chases.” 007 said smoothly. “Yes, I know, but we have to be sure that you are able to run away without dying on heart attack.”

Lestrade touched her shoulder. “Come on stand up, take shower, we don’t want that the most powerful brain in the world was too sore.”  
“Maybe in this part of the world…”  
“I beg your pardon?”  
“The most powerful brain in this part of the world.” Mycroft mumbled, closing her eyes and tried to forget how sore she was.   
“Oh, come on, in our profession it is not about being the best or perfect it is about believing you are.”  
“So this is your recipe for success?” Mycroft asked when he helped her to the bathroom.  
“So, if I believe that running will help me being a better quartermaster I became one? It sound a little bit like those meaningless Taoist puzzles. Can you hear a falling leaf in empty forest?  
“Don’t make it complicated.” Lestrade tightened his grip on her waist, hard and confident. “Remember mission in Turin, you blocked computers of six international agents, four of them were hackers. Maybe I have no idea about it, but for me it was genius.”  
“Mhm, It was fun, they faces… My feet hurt, and back, why my back hurts after running?”  
“Because instead of regular exercises, you prefer computers.” Lestrade said without hesitation. “Hey, don’t fall asleep here, because tomorrow you won’t stand up. Shower first.”

She just stood in bathroom, doors opened and her mind processing what next.

“Did I break quartermaster, I am curious if they will fire me for that?”  
“You will want that, time to retire?”  
“I don’t think I will retire.” 007 said cheerfully, then slowly closed the door. “I don’t think I will alive when retirement comes.”

Mycroft didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing .

When she ended shower she wore t\a bathrobe and went to the living room. Lestrade was improving his shirt.

“Going somewhere?”

Question was embarrassing, she shouldn’t care. 

“Stop it Mycroft.” Lestrade said carefully, trying to avoid her panic. “Plan changes. I know that you know about minister and his secretary and her lover, who is Quantum spy and they will be here in our hotel tonight.”  
“Damn…:” She swore and tried to say something more, but he cut in.  
“It is not that bad. You can tell M that you couldn’t stop me, it is even truth because how could you?”  
“Clinging to your sleeve and hanging limply on it.” She instinctively joked. Lestrade looked at her like a madman and laughed.  
“I could also block your credit card, and make you a one of the most wanted criminals in whole Japan.” Lestrade made a funny face when she told him that.  
“Okay, go to bed, I will deal with minister, secretary and her lover. Pretend you know nothing, no one will blame you.”  
“Don’t be an idiot, you need my help.”

Lestrade looked at her like she lost all of her senses. His hands clenched on her shoulders, iron grip was painful. 

“M made you do this.”  
“M wanted me to have an eye on you, but that doesn’t mean I am going to listen to him. “ Mycroft said calmly, trying to be cool, because someone had to. Of course Lestrade was spy and murderer so he didn’t trust anyone. On the other hand he should know how to recognize a friend.

She swallowed hard and looked at his arms.

“Let me go, you are hurting me.”

Lestrade pulled away.

“Let’s say I believe you. You want to help me. Why?” His voice was flat and calm, and she had desire to run, but to hell with that, this was more important.

Lestrade continued his speech.

“I will vanish the Quantum agent, M will be angry, I get suspended for a month, MI6 can’t exist without me for a month so it will end after two weeks. And you, Mycroft, what you will have?”

The longer Lestrade was talking the more Mycroft was convinced, that he didn’t believe her, that she was not going to report him, she just wanted to help.

“Don’t be stupid. Quantum is disturbing for me. They have good specialist, they almost broke our servers, few times, not to mention that every month I have at least three interns who are connected with them. I told M about little spies, but the situation is bizarre. Don’t you think? Old M didn’t talk about it, Mallory want you to stay away from it and I think we have to do something before they actually crack my system.”

Lestrade eyes narrowed and for a long moment he was staring into Mycrofts’ eyes. Whatever he saw in them, had to satisfied him, because he grinned and laughed.

“You are lying, sunshine. But it only shows purity of your intentions, however absurd it sounds.”  
“Anthea was right, you don’t trust anyone.”  
“It makes me a good agent.”  
“It makes you an idiot.” Mycroft huffed in disgust, Lestrade only shrugged stared at her expectantly, apparently believing that they finished the conversation. Under his brown eyes Mycroft could only capitulate.  
“Oh, Okay, so what’s the plan?”

///////////////

It was extremely twisted, unbearably long and surprising Friday. Not only Lestrade revealed that he knew that she knew that M knew, but he also agreed Mycroft to help him. It also caused that she was nervous and a bit stressed.

Lestrade didn’t pay attention to her behaviour, occupied by his secret plan and its very physical, aggressive execution. He just deprived of consciousness four bodyguards, one maid and manager, broke into the room with cameras system and he showed that he knew how to hack. Quite slow and blocky. But he could. Mycroft sat before her computer and watched in amazement as the 007 without subtlety was pressing buttons of the keyboard of his own laptop connected to the hotel network.

“You hack… on the laptop which according to my records should be on the bottom of the Channel.” 

Lestrade glanced at her with a smile and wrote something.

“And you bring thermos with tea on missions.”  
“My tea has nothing to do with it.” She said dramatically and connected her laptop to the network. “Besides I can’t work without tea and you were quite good without hacking so far.”  
“Yes, I can hack, I am not some stupid bully, who is in this business only because he has muscles.” He said staring at the screen. “Maybe I am not as good with computers as you, but I do what I can. I want have all cameras in the entrance, lobby and restaurant.

Mycroft moved gently to Lestrade and put her hand on his laptop. Lestrade let her get closer, but still was blocking access to the keyboard. It was rather annoying. 

“Come on, I will do it faster, move on, I have to hide our laptops from Japanese intelligence and also from MI6.”  
“I can do it by myself.”  
“The fact you can, doesn’t mean you have to.” She gently pried the laptop from his hands. “You can do all the rest, like go to restaurant, look like civilian not a spy, kill Quantum agent and seduce the secretary. We will be in touch, I will give you a sign when our suspect comes.”

Lestrade snorted but stepped away from laptop. 

“You know, I am not agent from Hollywood movie, who only shoot and sleep with beautiful women.”  
“You forgot about expensive cars. “ She added smoothly. “I will stop looking at you as a primitive agent if you stop seeing me as a weak computer girl, who doesn’t know how to lace her own shoes. Now go to work.”

Lestrade was silent, carefully looked at Mycroft.

Extremely quickly they entered their usual roles. He with communication device in his ear, she behind computer screen.

They parted without goodbye, didn’t wish good luck. This wasn’t an ordinary mission, it was dangerous and illegal. It was better without words.

“Try not to blow up everything before midnight.” Mycroft murmured to the microphone, when Lestrade moved to the restaurant.  
“Your wish is my command.” He replies. Clearly 007 was going to blow up something, just to annoy her.

Cooperation with Lestrade was as usual exhausting, but also interesting and challenging. Mycroft blocked all cameras and motion detectors throughout the hotel. Also she blocked wifi in two computers of Canadian spies. And she started wondering if this mission would end as always as international affair, loss of personnel, equipment and architecture.

“Cameras are offline, detectors deactivated. I disconnected mobiles of minister and his secretary, they are connected to my network, they don’t know about it. Also they will be here in short time. Our target is in lobby, his name for today is Rick Johnson. He just sent text to unknown number to, wait a moment… Bolivia. What are they doing in Bolivia?”

“Our Prime Minister will be in Bolivia next week.”  
Mycroft swallowed loudly and Lestrade had to hear that, because he muttered in his nice low voice.

“Don’t worry, I will not take you to Bolivia.”  
“Thank you very much.”

Lestrade was brilliant agent. Mycroft knew that, but he always somehow amazed her. With his perfectly tailored suit and stylish everything. He was attractive, gallant and classy. And people around saw that, even when he wasn’t seducing anyone. He was just another rich tourist in posh hotel in Tokyo sipping his martini.

Before minister and secretary came in Lestrade talked to bartender, flirted with three women and made friends with waitress. Mycroft didn’t commented, she was too busy watching hotel and fighting the feeling that something was very very wrong.

“Something’s not right, They should be here now, and secretary should informed bureau in England and they should inform MI6 and M. Meanwhile everyone is silent.”  
“Don’t panic sunshine, no one is shooting so it is okay.”

For some reasons his words didn’t calm her down. She drank some of her tea and tried to breath normal.

She can be all right on the mission outside the headquarters. But there was no data, which was wrong, because she used to have many data, nearly always too many and had to choose the good ones and now nothing. Strange feeling. If someone caught her now he or her would probably had Lestrade too.

Did not panic. Inhaled, exhaled, relaxed. She should just do her business, navigated Lestrade and stopped worrying.

Mycroft promised herself, that she was not traveling with Lestrade again also not helping him with his private revenges oh and no jogging anymore. 

Minister and secretary finally arrived they were in lobby, Rick Johnson five meters behind them, he probably had gun under his jacket. 

“They arrived, she is fresh and happy, he looks like he didn’t sleep for three days, like someone blackmailed him…”

She saw tension in Lestrade’s shoulders.

“Pack you toys and run Mycroft.”  
“I do not… why?” Mycroft began, but paused she saw four men that weren’t guests she sent their photos to MI6 data base.  
“007, four men who should not be here just entered the hotel lobby.”  
“How they shouldn’t?  
"Joseph Karr, Janco Hass, Benedict Fieldlow and Frank Jatte. " Mycroft narrowed her eyes feeling massive migraine coming. “Freelancers, working in too many places to establish for whom they are working now.”

Lestrade was still at the bar drinking his drink, but his voice sounded dangerous.

“Do they have something, suitcases anything?”

Mycroft followed those men. Fieldlow and Jatte headed toward the restaurant, Karr and Hass stayed behind, walking slowly and watching cameras. There was something predatory in their eyes so she immediately started analysing the situation. She did it thousands of times, so why her hands shook?

“They know they are watched, they have a suitcase and guns, Karr just sent a text message to someone, Jatte is ending a call. I will try to find out with whom they are contacting.”  
“I don’t like this, unplug everything and run away.”

In normal situation she would laugh, but in normal situation she would be in London. Now however, she took part in action. And she knew that his illogical feelings many times saved his life.

“One moment, I nearly know… It is a fast program.”  
“Mycroft! Now, MI6 isn’t here to protect you, so run.”

Now she remembered, Lestrade and his complex of knight in shining armour. She was not damsel in distress, she just needed to write faster.

Jatte was calling to Bolivia, Sucre and La Paz, how he could phone two place at once? Mycroft clenched her jaws and focused. It was easy to break the protection of this call, but not easy to hide it, but there was no time for subtlety. Mycroft wrote a piece of code that didn’t exist and she broke all operators of digital telephony in South America. Computers flickered with sudden voltage drop but Mycroft didn’t bother. She had to capture this conversation, she had a feeling it was something important.

“I see Karr and Fieldlow, going towards minister.” She heard 007. “They recognized me, whatever you are doing stop and run.’

Mycroft nodded although Lestrade couldn’t see that. One.. two more minutes and the call would be protected by MI6 server. Suddenly something was wrong, Mycroft frowned and eyed all screens.

“Hass, 007, is he in restaurant?”  
“No, Mycroft, run.”  
“I can’t, I am sending Jatte’s call to MI6. Nothing will happen, if someone come here I will throw my thermos at him.”  
“If you have to shoot someone just do it Mycroft.” Lestrade hissed. “That’s why you have a weapon.”

Mycroft glanced at the Beretta, small and never used outside the shooting range. She didn’t think she could shoot a man, not face to face.

Fieldlow and Karr came to minister and his secretary and started small talk, but not with him but with her. Strange, nut it was work for Lestrade, she was busy making sure all files were in MI6 server and making small worm to plant it in Bolivian network of digital telephony. She would find out who exactly was calling Jatte and she would hack his/her computer, because the person had it for sure and it was connected to the same network as phone. She looked at the laptop, so two people one in Sucre and one In La Paz. Interesting. 

“Mycroft do not play a heroine. I will take care of minister, secretary and her lover, you run.”

Mycroft wanted to tell Lestrade to go fuck yourself, but she received text, from M.

“Thank you for a transfer, our server in Spain blow up. I want secretary alive even if minister will be dead.”

Great, Mycroft sipped her tea and improved microphone.

“007, for some reasons M want secretary alive. Rest is not important.”

Lestrade didn’t answer, more he disappeared from cameras view, like Hass, damn… She forgot about Hass!

“007 where the hell are you?”  
“Too far away to save you.”

Mycroft tensed when she heard some strange noises. She turned slowly and saw Hass and his gun, aimed straight to her forehead.

“Damn…” Mycroft cursed and without thinking threw the thermos.


	7. Explosive server and tea with quince.

“This is all your fault! I had everything under control!”  
“You had nothing under control, you are alive only because he didn’t have an order to kill you!”

They sat in the car, Mycroft staring stubbornly ahead. They went illegally fast, but Lestrade didn’t care about that, because Lestrade in general didn’t care about rules and he liked playing knight in shining armour… Then sudden turn threw Mycroft on the car’s door, seat belt tensed on her injured arm. Arm in which Hass shoot her before Lestrade killed him.

“Ouch.”  
“Exactly, We are chased by the police.” Lestrade glanced in the mirror and stepped on the gas. “Be careful and try not to damage your arm more.”

Mycroft didn’t honour Lestrade with answer. Instead she opened her laptop, despite a cracked cover it still worked and even registered the last part of the fight between her and Hass. The thermos hit, but not hard enough, shot and Mycroft on the floor then Lestrade and his lethal shot.

But it was not the end of MI6 mistakes in Japan. Secretary of the Minister shot one of Canadian agents, the Minister shot her and her lover shot the Minister. Lestrade shot Karr in the restaurant, Jatte, Fieldlow and the rest of Canadian agents run away. Then was just chaos and Japanese police and black Toyota, simple unrecognizable way to abandon all the mess they made.

The chase wasn’t creative, Lestrade broke every road rule that existed in Japan and soon they would arrive in a small airport on the outskirts of Tokyo. Mycroft didn’t react when she saw where they headed. She was too busy trying to figure out what really happened, because something was definitely wrong with the whole situation. 

But after a while the mere thought about plane made her sick and weak or maybe it was just a shock after being shot. She raised her hand slightly and stared at the bandage and blood that was sipping through it destroying her shirt and interior of the car. She felt no pain which was odd, because at the beginning she felt it quite clearly.

“Mycroft, are you okay?”  
“Focus on the road and leave me alone.” Mycroft commanded, slowly clicking on the laptop. “I will check that server from Spain that exploded after I pushed Jatte’s conversation to London. Something is wrong here… So little data and it blocked the transfer? Impossible… unless…”

She looked at the codes, maybe hotel’s network was just overloaded or perhaps it was something completely different. She scanned all protocols, logically it was correct, but… and she saw it, double code! It meant double transfer.

“Impossible!”

Jatte’s conversation was sent not only to London but also to Bolivia, someone interfered in her secure way to transmit data.

She leaned back in the car chair took a deep breath. She couldn’t stop looking at the screen. Enigmatic someone in Bolivia had to be a genius and also had to have someone in Q-branch.

“Lestrade we have a spy.” Mycroft calmly announced.  
“We have lot of spies.” Dry response came with a screech of tires. They stood in front of the gate of the airport. “Tell me something new.”

A small plane was waiting for them. Mycroft was shaking from the moment they got out from the car slowly followed Lestrade. Her legs felt like they were made of some kind of jelly. Greg saw that, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and made her walk faster then she wanted. So she came into plane sweating, with tears in her eyes and with hyperventilation. Lestrade didn’t comment. He just help her sat, gave her two blankets and a bottle of scotch, she accepted without a word and took few sips from the bottle.

“I could trace the leak on the ship to London.”  
“You couldn’t and you know that.” Lestrade said gently.  
”I could try.”

Greg took a bottle and poured a decent drinks for them into paper cups he somehow managed to find.

“In this profession there is no such a thing like trying. You do something or you die.”

Mycroft had desire to laugh but her throat was too dry.

“Gregory.”  
“Yes?”  
“I hate you.”  
“Well, it’s a start, isn’t it?” Lestrade smiled and reach for her arm. “I will change your dressing. We have long flight before us, it is better you do not bleed out during it.”

The wound didn’t look deep, but Mycroft was not a specialist in this area. Normally she trusted agents with their ability to continue their missions. But now the wound on her upper arm beginning to quite seriously hurt and the dressing was soaked. 

When Lestrade took off the bandages she felt weak.

“Don’t go into shock.”  
“I am doing everything what is in my power.” She choked with clenched jaws, she breathed faster and faster through nose and covered her face with healthy arm. “There is no chance for tea? We have only scotch?”

Lestrade slowly bandaged her upper arm and threw old dressing.

“I will see what I can do.”

It turned out that special offer of MI6 airlines was few bottles of scotch and bottle of water. For a good ten minutes Mycroft considered escaping through the window before the plane started. Lestrade talked with pilots and somehow he managed to find a thermos with green tea, too strong and with quince.

“With quince, really?”  
“Do not frown, do you want tea or not?”  
“I want tea, not, something like tea.”  
“If you don’t have what you like, you like what you have. For example I’d rather chase Fieldlow, but I have to take care of you, because you are my priority.”

Mycroft didn’t know what to say so with trembling hands she poured tea into their cups.

Scotch and tea help, but only a little. As the plane lifted into the air Mycroft was not able to control hyperventilation. She bent, her head was between her knees. Lestrade without a word began to massage her back, slow calming circles. He focused on lower part of her back. Since the famous kidnaping she had pains in this area. Lestrade knew that which wasn’t very surprising.

“Are you spying on me, 007?”  
“Of course, when you are a spy, you do this all the time, it is a habit, you know.”

Mycroft laughed and then remained herself that they were in metal box in the air, above the clouds she swallowed loudly and clenched her hands on her knees.”  
“Xanax?”  
“No.”  
“Painkillers?”

Lestrade put his hand on her neck, gently.

“We have nothing, you have to survive.”

And Mycroft survived. Bent on her chair with Lestrade touching her back and neck. Two times she started panicking and two times Lestrade talked her out, forced her to drink two full cups of scotch and made her eat mints and biscuits. During these pathetic attacks he was asking about servers and transfers. There was no doubt he did it only to make her mind busy. 

“So it would be easier for you to track our genius hacker if you had a server from Spain?”  
“Yes, I could physically check what we could find in it. And also it would be easier to find a location in Bolivia… There are traces but too faint.”  
“Traces in Spain were the most visible?”  
“Yes… but tracking is not the biggest problem… the same hard were of server would be helpful… unless it really exploded…”  
“Would you like some more tea?”  
“No… I think I will go to sleep.”

Maybe she was not sure at some point of their travel Lestrade helped her to arranged herself on the seats with her legs on his lap.   
She dreamed of a huge flashing lights and diesel engine which powered giant server.

///////////////

She woke up when the plane had already landed. She was stiff and sore and her head pounded terribly. Mycroft groaned and closed her eyes tried not to vomit on her own knees. Lestrade helped her sit up, he looked at the dressing on her upper arm and into her eyes, making sure she was still conscious in some way. Mycroft was happy that they were the only passengers, she was shot, blood everywhere it represented a view of despair. She was tired, dusty girl with broken laptop, madness in eyes and a bottle of scotch. She swayed on her legs.

“Mycroft, Anthea is here, she will take you to hospital.” Lestrade guided her through the plane and airport.   
“What hospital? The server…” Mycroft slurred quietly and then she slumped down, Lestrade caught her gently and sat on the plastic chair in the terminal. When he touched her cheek and neck his hands were cold, Mycroft twitched nervously. She didn’t notice when she closed her eyes.   
“You have fever.” Lestrade murmured. “No matter what you say, first you go to hospital.”

She wanted to protest, really, somehow hospital upset her so much, but she could only curl up in Lestrades’ arms. 

“I know… that… you want to ground me… in the hospital… and brake to my computer… I explained you everything and…”  
“Me? Mycroft, you said I don’t know how to hack.”  
“I saw you can… "

She wanted to say something more, threaten Lestrade, but she didn’t have strength. It was strangely pleasant to be able to hang on someone like that, without excuses. It was long time since she’d touched anyone. In fact if she thought about that she’d never touched anyone.

Anthea came with heels tapping on the pavement, as usual dressed perfectly, with perfect hair and makeup. Lestrade and Anthea packed Mycroft to a cab. She closed her eyes but she heard what they were talking about.

“Greg.”  
“Anthea.”  
“You should disappear for a few weeks. M is furious.   
“Okay.”  
“Where are you going to hide? Do you have some extra place to stay, except the temporary apartment they gave you after Skyfall?”  
“We will see, Alec still in Peru?”  
“Yes, see you around Greg.”  
“Good bye Anthea.”

Anthea got to the cab and ordered taxi driver to go to MI6 headquarters.

“Welcome home.” Anthea smiled. “You look miserable, the medical ward has a bed booked for you.”  
“Lestrade not going with us?”  
“No, he has a few things to attend to.”

Mycroft sighed and leaned her head against the cool glass of the window. For some reason she was offended by sudden disappearance of Lestrade. The bastard didn’t even say goodbye.

/////////////////////////////

A visit in medical ward was not so bad, bullet went through Mycroft’s arm. Generally it could be worse. She ended with one week holidays with a note that if necessary she will immediately go to MI6, because after all it’s just gunshot wound not amputation.

“You are cruel M.” Anthea said coldly when Mallory appeared in medical ward. “Quartermaster had just returned from dangerous mission with injuries. She needs more time for recovery.”  
“She will get more time when she stop blowing up our servers in different parts of Europe.” Mallory said and turned to Mycroft. “You messed up, Japan, Bolivia and Spain want to know what the hell is happening. Where is Lestrade?”  
“Gone, as always. He doesn’t like bureaucracy.” Mycroft sat down. “I can work, it is not a problem. I will find out why in Tokyo we have gathering of agents, but not now. Now I want to go home.”

Mycroft was considered as workaholic with a mission and without free time. Her request made Mallory reluctantly surrendered. Anthea smiled and helped Mycroft with clothes.

“Home?”  
“Home.”

Anthea took care of a cat and a flat. Cactuses were still alive and dust didn’t clog computers. Fridge was full, even biscuits and dark chocolate appeared in the cupboard. Mycroft thanked Anthea for everything and stood in the middle of her bedroom,, looked around and sighed with relief. No scotch, no shootings, no training or planes. Great. Mycroft curled up on her bed and fell asleep not even sure if Anthea left the flat.

She woke up several hours later with Heisenberg staring at her face, she wanted to pet him, but of course he run away.

She got up, feed the cat, made weak tea and ate some biscuits. The change of time zones didn’t match to gunshot wounds and starvation. Oh and Lestrade managed to talk her through all of that…

“And he made me drank so much scotch… asshole…”

Heisenberg looked at her sceptically then returned to his food.

Mycroft ate painkillers like candies. The arm didn’t hurt sharply but she still felt muffed distant pain and it meant that without meds she would cry from pain.

She had no idea how Lestrade could work with gunshot wounds. She promised herself that when next time she would navigate wounded agent she would be more forgiving and nicer.

In the evening she felt a lot better. She started looking for any kind of leak in MI6 network, she thought about activated some worms in some Bolivian networks, but for that she was too sleepy and distracted. It had to wait for a few days until she get better.

After one more tea with painkillers and biscuits Mycroft went to bed with a laptop and tablet. She had conspiracy to solve, because somewhere there between MI6 agents was someone who didn’t like Queen and country at all. 

Eyes shut down without her thinking about it. Laptop, tablet and cat in her bed. She dreamt about Lestrade, blankets and a small, moment of feeling secure with his hands on her shoulders.

She dreamt that someone was sitting in her bedroom next to her on the bed and said that she should be more careful.

“I always am.” She explained with dreamy voice.  
“Not enough, not enough Myc.”

//////////////

Two days later Mycroft woke up with a plan. She put on bathrobe, opened a tuna for Heisenberg and made herself coffee, she needed caffeine. She gulped down her coffee and went to bathroom. She washed her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like zombie with very dry skin. Good no one was looking at her.

She worked all day digging through Spanish network. There was no much time. The truth was she needed that damn server…

Since Silva no one was capable of hiding under her nose. It was a bit of a challenge a bit invitation to dance. Exciting. She used her impossible code to search networks of MI6. She was observed by M and a few specialist from her department, so she had to be careful. She didn’t know who was a mole. 

She sat for a long time in one position, the pain showed her that it was evening. She stood up, stretched went to living room almost had a heart attack, because someone was sitting on her couch.

“Hello Q.” Lestrade smiled with all his teeth and put his hand on big pocket lying beside him. “I brought you a Spanish server.”

////////////////////////

“Wonderful! Wonderful! Now do not disturb. It is only half burned, so I will manage…”

Mycroft circled the kitchen table on which lay server. She was so happy even an unexpected visit of Lestrade in her private flat didn’t crash it.

“You should have better security, Mycroft or at least move for a few weeks to headquarter.”  
“Yes and I will go mad and start biting people, no thank you.”

Lestrade sighed and looked how Mycroft got busy with a server, she looked like Christmas came earlier. He was dressed in bright linen suit looking like he just came back from holidays on Ibiza or Barcelona. Heisenberg traitor lovingly rubbed against his legs.

“How did you find it? Even destroyed electronics that were used by MI6 is always burned.”  
“My friend from Canadian intelligence was accidentally in Barcelona and helped me.” Lestrade smiled and Mycroft glared at him.  
“Lots of Canadians lately.” Mycroft cleaned her throat. “You agent friend is still in Spain?”  
“No, they killed her.”

Mycroft knew that it was a moment she should say something, anything. Lestrade apparently didn’t expect it, because he just went to her fridge.

“In this profession we kill and we are killed. Do you have any beer?”  
“I have wine, but I don’t know how long it is standing here. Help yourself and do not talk for half an hour. I am working.”  
“Yes, madame.”

Lestrade was doing something in her kitchen. When he came back he had wine and sandwiches. He installed himself on the couch, Heisenberg immediately jumped into his lap.

“At least you are glad to see me, cat.”

When she finally got the content of server it was already well past three in the morning. She was aware of how tired she was, so she only secured data and turned laptop off. Lestrade and Heisenberg were dozing off on her couch. She took almost untouched bottle of wine and plate to the kitchen.

She stretched, trying not to hurt her arm and walked back to the sleeping agent. Lestrade looked like he didn’t sleep for a month. And he looked older, ashen. Mycroft wondered if he tried to save his Canadian friend.

She picked up a blanket and spread it on Lestrade sleeping form. In this moment brown eyes opened. And before she knew Mycroft was lying on her carpet with a Walter pressed to her neck and her arm, injured arm painfully twisted behind. 

She felt hot tears in her eyes.

For the next few minutes Lestrade apologized. Mycroft didn’t listen, she was focused on pulsing pain and not vomiting her last tea on her own carpet. Her face was wet. Lestrade sat her gently on the couch, brought water and pills. And he was still talking.

“I have to go. I work unofficially, M shouldn’t even know that I am in London.”

Mycroft steadied her breath.

“Stop talking for a moment. All security systems here are oriented to send M a looped material. I also blocked signal from your official transmitter and unofficial one which you have in your calf and you don’t know about it. Nobody knows you are here.”

He looked at her one more time.

“I am sorry.”

“It is fine. Look, Gregory, we need to talk what are we going to do with business in Bolivia, Quantum and our mole. I propose a deal. I will make you invisible in England and the bigger part of the world and you will not tell M what I discover on Spanish server.”

Lestrade gave her handkerchief.

“And what is on this server?”

Mycroft wiped her eyes then smiled. 

“I found that our mole cooperates with Quantum.”  
“Wait a minute. I don’t say no, but why you don’t want M to know that?”  
“For the same reason you didn’t tell him about your little investigation. M will want to go with procedures and mole will disappear. We don’t know how long he or she is watching us, but one is certain. It is a great spy. We discovered the whole thing by accident. There was no suspicious and that means the spy is deep in structures of MI6.”

Lestrade looked at her with amused smile. Mycroft knew that skipping M could be consider as betrayal. She was quartermaster, she had full access to the most secret, the most sensitive information. She could also distribute them and change them. Ultimate power if you knew how intelligence works. This type of power was needed but also feared. Mycroft was fully aware that both enemies and friends looked closely at her hands. After all she always could do what Silva did…

Lestrade nodded. “If I agree, it will make me your partner.”  
“So it seems. And I also would prefer that my partner doesn’t tore my dressings or torture me on a treadmill anymore.”

For a long while Lestrade stared at her bandages. When he finally looked back at her face, she saw determination and ruthlessness. Yes, officially Lestrade had just taken new mission.

“Did you do something like that before?” Lestrade murmured in a low, clear voice.  
“No, I’ve never worked outside of the jurisdiction. But also for the first time since Silva someone tricked me. This spy or hacker was under my nose and I didn’t see anything. I have reputation to maintain and I know that if we allow one to spy on us, the next is just a time.”  
“You are very similar to old M, she also always surprised me.” Lestrade said with a smile. “You will make great things one day, Q”  
“I am doing everything I can, but for now I just want to catch them and smash to dust.”

Lestrade snorted and touched Mycroft good arm.

“So, Lestrade, deal?”  
He nodded. “Deal.”


End file.
